OLD 

WASHINGTON 


HARRIET  PRESCOTT  SPOFFORD 


OLD    WASHINGTON 


Veronica  Sidney  and  her  sister  Sedley. 

A  THANKSGIVING  BREAKFAST,     /re-, 


8 


:; 


I 


OLD 
WASHINGTON 


BY 
HARRIET   PRESCOTT   SPOFFORD 

Author  of 

'THE  AMBER  GODS,"  "IN  TITIAN'S  GARDEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS," 
"HESTER  STANLEY  AT  ST.  MARK'S,"  ETC. 


With  a  Frontispiece  from  a  Drawing 
By  George  Alfred  Williams 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY 

1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1906, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved 


Published  March,  1906. 


THE    UNIVERSITY    PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.  S.  A. 


Thanks  are  due  Messrs.  Harper  and  Brothers,  and 
others,  for  the  courtesy  of  republication. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  THANKSGIVING  BREAKFAST  .     .     . 

A  GUARDIAN  ANGEL 

IN  A  CONSPIRACY 

A  LITTLE  OLD  WOMAN 

THE  COLONEL'S  CHRISTMAS       .    ..     .     241 


I 

A  Thanksgiving  Breakfast 


A  Thanksgiving  Breakfast 

PERHAPS  you  remember  the  house, 
a  little  remote  from  the  Avenue  and 
its   approaches,  in   that  part  of  the 
town  which  is  now  the  fashionable  centre, 
but  was  then  on  the  edge  of  a  wood,  a  house 
sitting   high   on   its    terraces,  half   covered 
with  honeysuckles  green  all  winter,  and  half 
hidden  by  its  hedges. 

Here  Miss  Veronica  and  her  sister  lived, 
intrenched  not  only  behind  their  hedges,  but 
behind  a  respectability  that  took  small  note 
of  new  people  and  affairs  ;  and  as  some  trees 
find  sustenance  in  the  decay  of  their  roots, 
they  nourished  themselves  upon  past  gran 
deur.  Administrations  came  and  adminis 
trations  went ;  they  passed  like  ephemera 
before  Miss  Veronica  and  Miss  Sedley.  In 
forty  years  they  had  not  thought  it  worth 
while  to  attend  a  President's  levee,  or  to 
enter  the  White  House  at  all.  The  Capitol 
had  blown  up  the  bubble  of  its  mighty  dome 
[3] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

un visited  by  them.  The  Civil  War  had 
surged  over  the  country,  scarcely  causing 
them  a  heart-throb.  When  Early  made  his 
raid  upon  the  borders  of  the  town  they  only 
smiled  to  hear  of  it ;  they  were  Southern 
ladies,  and  safe  in  any  event.  Soldiers 
marched  and  countermarched  in  street  and 
avenue  —  they  only  bowed  their  blinds  and 
sat  farther  back  in  their  parlors.  Milly 
and  Hark  became  free  people ;  the  country 
rocked  with  jubilation  and  blazed  with  ban 
ners  ;  so  far  as  they  were  conscious  of  it  they 
regarded  it  as  a  part  of  the  latter-day  ruin. 
A  President  was  impeached ;  it  did  not 
signify ;  the  new  Presidents  were  like  chil 
dren  playing  with  crowns  and  sceptres.  As 
nearly  as  possible  time  and  the  march  of 
nations  stood  still  that  Miss  Veronica  Sidney 
and  her  sister  Sedley  might  pass,  pausing,  if 
not  with  that  President  who  had  been  an 
uncle-in-law  of  some  long  dead  aunt  of 
theirs,  yet  with  his  immediate  successors. 

The   income   of  these   old   gentlewomen 
was  very  small,  consisting  of  the  rents  of 
certain  houses,  sometimes   paid   and  some 
times  not,  and  it  was  now  smaller  than  ever, 
[4] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

since  under  the  new  system  of  street  im 
provement  some  of  the  houses  had  simply 
been  swallowed  in  the  abyss  of  the  better 
ments.  But  their  needs  were  very  small 
also.  They  changed  the  fashion  of  their 
garments  but  little  ;  one  wax  candle  burned 
a  long  while  ;  and  the  best  part  of  the  table 
was  its  thin  old  silver.  The  Easter  ham, 
stuffed  with  chives  and  shallots,  lasted  them 
almost  to  Ascension ;  and  there  was  some 
of  the  Christmas  pudding  left  not  only  for 
Twelfth-night  but  for  Candlemas.  They 
paid  wages  now  to  Milly,  small  ones,  but 
none  at  all  to  Hark,  who  waited  at  table 
and  on  the  door,  and  had  his  satisfaction  in 
it ;  and  the  two  old  slaves,  beaming  and 
content,  said  nothing  about  the  fact  that 
they  were  much  better  off  than  their  mis 
tresses,  having  long  ago  squatted  on  some 
vacant  lots,  and  having  now  sold  out  for 
an  independence.  Milly  went  home  every 
evening,  and  came  back  every  morning  as 
Miss  Veronica  opened  the  door  to  go  out 
to  six  o'clock  mass,  for  the  sisters  were 
devout  Catholics.  And  with  Milly  came 
half  a  dozen  little  pickaninnies  in  every 
[5] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

size  and  shade,  who  played  all  day  on  the 
brick  floor  of  the  great  kitchen  or  in  the 
area  behind  it,  and  who  were  fed  at  no  par 
ticular  cost  on  potatoes  and  gravy.  Hark 
did  the  marketing  and  whatever  might  be 
come  a  man ;  and  if  now  and  then  dainties 
in  the  shape  of  an  early  radish  or  a  crisp 
lettuce,  a  shaddock  dressed  with  sherry,  a 
devilled  crab,  a  bird,  appeared  on  the  table, 
the  ladies  only  thought  how  apt  Hark  was 
at  getting  the  money's  worth,  and  never 
dreamed  that  it  was  Hark's  money. 

So  Miss  Veronica's  and  Miss  Sedley's 
days  went  by  in  a  great  quiet.  They  had 
a  few  friends,  somewhat  like  themselves, 
with  whom  they  exchanged  visits.  They 
occasionally  went  over  to  the  convent  and 
got  the  news  of  the  world.  They  now  and 
then  read  a  newspaper,  but  with  the  air  of 
holding  it  with  a  pair  of  tongs.  They  re 
garded  a  woman  who  wrote  for  the  papers 
as  false  to  her  sex  ;  an  interviewer  was  some 
thing  less  reprehensible  than  a  housebreaker 
perhaps ;  and  they  associated  suffrage  in 
their  minds  with  divorce,  and  regarded  them 
both  as  scandals,  for  mention  of  which,  were 
[6] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

it  necessary  to  allude  to  them,  you  lowered 
your  voice.  Their  contempt  for  the  North, 
its  fasts  and  feasts  and  people,  was  inbred, 
but  was  not  active,  the  subject  being  too 
remote  to  concern  them0  They  looked 
askance  at  the  employment  of  women  in 
the  Treasury ;  and  they  took  almost  as 
much  care  not  to  brush  their  skirts  against 
a  Treasury  girl  as  against  a  play-actress,  as 
they  called  it  —  a  person  who  represented 
to  them  an  unknown  quantity,  not  exactly 
human,  but  allied  to  the  powers  of  evil. 
And  as  for  modern  science,  so  far  as  they 
knew  anything  about  it,  it  was  a  fairy  story, 
or  a  lure  of  the  devil,  and  they  regarded 
mention  of  protoplasm  or  germs  or  evolution 
as  uncomfortably  near  profanity.  They  did 
endless  cross-stitch  with  crewels  on  canvas, 
and  some  beautiful  tambour- work  on  muslin. 
They  had  a  week  of  dissipation  when  one 
of  the  Fairs  of  their  Church  took  place  ;  and 
they  would  revel  in  half  the  bad  passions 
of  the  race  over  the  countless  raffles  for 
a  picture,  an  India  shawl,  a  lace  mantle, 
there.  When  Miss  Sedley  broke  her  arm, 
Miss  Veronica  kept  the  bandages  wet  with 
[7] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

holy  water,  and  was  confident  that  the 
dressing  did  more  good  than  the  surgeon's 
splints.  And  Miss  Sedley  had  for  some 
time  been  putting  by  a  secret  hoard,  if  by 
possibility  it  might  reach  such  proportions 
that  Miss  Veronica  could  make  the  pilgrim 
age  to  Lourdes,  not  very  long  known  then, 
and  wash  away  the  little  knobs  that  were 
coming  on  the  joints  of  her  long  white 
slender  fingers. 

So,  neither  of  the  world  nor  in  the  world, 
they  sat  one  summer  morning,  now  and 
then  murmuring  a  sentence  or  two,  wearing 
their  old  sheer  muslin  gowns,  a  little  open 
at  the  ruffled  throat,  a  faint  color  from  the 
heat  upon  their  withered  cheeks,  the  slightly 
loose  and  thin  gray  hair  having  the  fine  curl 
about  the  brow  which  belongs  alike  to  age 
and  infancy,  —  as  beautiful,  alas !  as  it  is 
given  to  old  women  to  be.  And  they  slowly 
waved  their  great  feather  fans,  more  with 
a  sense  of  the  terrible  heat  that  struck  up 
from  the  blazing  concrete  pavements  out 
side,  than  with  any  actual  experience  of  it 
here  where  the  south  wind  blew  in  at  the 
windows  and  brought  with  it  the  sweetness 
[8] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

of  the  roses  that  bent  their  long  stems  and 
swung  damask  and  maroon  and  blush  and 
white,  such  heavy  hundred-leaved  roses  as 
summer  seldom  gives  the  North.  Miss  Sed- 
ley  had  yawned  and  yawned  again.  "  Dear, 
dear,"  she  said.  "  It  does  seem  as  if  life 
were  too  empty  to  live.  One  day  just  like 
another,  and  nothing  ever  happening."' 

"  Sometimes  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Miss 
Veronica,  "as  if  we  were  our  own  ghosts," 
and  then  she  stopped,  overcome  with  the 
irreverence  of  the  fancy.  "  I  mean  we  are 
really  so  dead,  not  merely  dead  and  alive, 
but  dead.  There  is  nothing  that  could 
happen." 

"  Oh,  sister ! " 

"  There  is  no  one  to  come.  And  no  one 
to  go.  Nothing  to  hope  for.  Nothing  to 
wish.  There  are  old  people  who  amount 
to  something.  But  I  reckon  they  married, 
or  their  sisters  did  —  " 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes  ! " 

"If  we  only  had  some  one  to  love, 
Sedley,  I  would  not  care  how  worthless 
—  it  would  be  better  than  stagnation." 

"  Oh,  sister ! " 

[9] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  I  Ve  always  been  tolerably  content,  you 
know,"  said  Miss  Veronica,  taking  the  little 
powder-puff  from  the  reticule  on  her  arm 
and  cooling  her  face  with  it,  "  but  lately  I 
have  thought  we  might  as  well  be  dead  and 
done  with  as  done  with  and  not  dead !  " 

"  1  'm  afraid  it  is  very  irreligious.  I  feel 
so,  too.  I  'm  afraid  perhaps  we  Ve  been 
living  too  well.  It  has  puffed  us  up  and 
made  us  discontented.  I  'm  afraid  I  wrould 
better  tell  Milly,"  said  Miss  Sedley,  "not 
to  put  caraway  into  the  next  seed-cakes." 

Perhaps  the  sisters  were  dozing  then,  the 
briefest  moment  possible,  when  a  blow  from 
the  knocker  resounded  through  the  hall,  and 
resounded  again  with  determination,  before 
Hark  could  loiter  up  from  the  kitchen  and 
shuffle  along  to  the  door. 

"  Oh,  my  goodness ! "  cried  Miss  Sedley. 
"  To  think  of  any  one  out  in  this  heat ! 
Who  do  you  suppose  it  can  be  ?  Perhaps 
it  is  Mrs.  Entwisle's  Polly  about  the  goose 
berries.  You  don't  think  it  can  be  Father 
Walter  ?  I  wish  the  sherbet  —  Oh  —  ah 
—  yes  —  no  —  I  'm  sure  — "  For  Hark  was 
taking  an  impression  of  his  thumb  on  a 
[10] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

visiting-card,  and  Miss  Veronica  had  slowly 
adjusted  her  lorgnon  and  read 


Miss  CELESTE  DRKER 


The  Graphic 
The  Free  Press 


without,  however,  observing  the  lower  left- 
hand  corner,  and  had  passed  the  card  to  her 
sister. 

"Dreer?"  she  said.  "Dreer?  There 
were  the  Yardley  Dreers,  and  the  Queen 
Anne  County  Dreers  —  well,  well —  Yes, 
Hark,  of  course  we  shall  be  pleased."  And 
then  a  young  lady  in  a  frou-frou  of  light 
summer  silk  and  a  hat  of  corn-flowers  and 
poppies  was  in  the  room  and  bending  with 
a  pretty  grace  to  the  old  ladies,  opening  a 
fan  that  swung  at  her  waist,  taking  the  seat 
they  both  indicated  at  the  same  moment,  a 
pair  of  keen  quick  eyes  busying  themselves 
with  the  environment. 

"  No,"  she  said  in  bright,  crisp  tones. 
"  I  'm  so  sorry.  But  I  'm  neither  the  Yard- 
ley  nor  the  Queen  Anne  Dreers.  I  'm  just  a 
no-account  Dreer.  But  when  I  was  quite  a 
little  girl  old  Chancellor  Babb  used  to  tell 
me  of  you  —  " 


OLD    WASHINGTON 
"  The  Chancellor  !     Indeed  !     It  is  so  long 


since  —  " 


"And  my  kind  friend,  General  Fitz 
Hardee  - 

"  Oh,  certainly,  any  friend  of  General 
Fitz  Hardee!"  * 

"And  so  I  am  venturing, — although  it 
is  so  unceremonious,  —  and  I  am  awfully 
afraid  a  thunder-gust  is  coming  up." 

And  by  this  time  the  lively  eyes  had 
taken  in  the  lofty  old-fashioned  room,  where 
the  Canton  mattings  diffused  their  odor  of 
dates ;  where  Windsor  chairs  stood  between 
white  dimity-covered  sofas ;  bright  Lowes- 
toft  china  illuminated  dark  wall-cabinets ; 
spidery  tables  held  jars  of  pot-pourri  and 
great  bowls  of  fresh  roses  and  one  or  two 
faded  silken-bound  Souvenirs  and  Annuals  ; 
where  a  spindle-legged  piano,  whose  ivory 
inlay  was  yellow  as  old  paper,  companioned 
a  harp  over  whose  strings  and  tarnished  gild 
ing  she  could  in  an  instant  see  Miss  Sedley 
drooping  the  flaxen  ringlets  and  curving  the 
round  white  arms  of  long  ago ;  and  where 
half-guessed  in  the  shadow  and  the  dimness 
the  portraits  of  gentlemen  in  gold  lace,  and 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

of  ladies  in  long  corsets  and  scarfs  and 
feathers,  looked  down  from  the  walls  among 
century-old  engravings  framed  in  black  and 
bearing  long-descended  stains. 

"  Oh,  we  do  not  mind  the  thunder-gusts," 
said  Miss  Veronica. 

"  I  do,  then,"  said  the  visitor.  "  I  grow 
stone-cold,  and  have  to  have  something 
warm  to  drink,  and  nearly  die  with  fright 
anyway.  But  I  had  to  come.  You  know 
after  Congress  is  gone  and  there 's  nothing 
doing  at  the  Departments  or  in  society, 
there 's  so  little  to  write  about,  and  — " 

"  You  want  to  tell  them  at  home  that 
you  have  seen  their  old  friends,"  said  Miss 
Sedley. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  nothing  of  the  sort.  —  You 
must  excuse  my  saying  so,  but  what  a  per 
fectly  charming  room  this  is  !  Who  would 
think,  down  in  Mrs.  McQueen's  stuffy  board 
ing-house,  that  such  a  cool  bowery  place  of 
seclusion  could  be  found  in  the  same  town  ? 
You  can  never  know  anything  about  the 
heat,  here.  Why,  some  nights  I  just  gasp 
for  breath.  We  take  our  chairs  out  on  the 
sidewalk  after  dark  and  simply  suffer.  I 
[13] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

went  to  sleep  last  summer  for  six  weeks 
with  the  thermometer  at  a  hundred  and 
two,  and  it  was  ninety-eight  when  I  woke 
up.  In  the  daytime  it  was  hotter  after  a 
shower  than  it  was  before.  I  held  my  para 
sol  down  coming  up  here,  for  the  heat  from 
the  pavement  was  worse  than  the  heat  from 
the  sky.  Oh,  it  is  so  deliciously  cool  in  here  ! " 
And  she  stopped  talking  long  enough  to  use 
her  fan  vigorously. 

"  We  were  thinking  it  warm,"  said  Miss 
Veronica. 

"  In  this  place !  Why,  it  belongs  to  the 
Dwelling  of  Delightful  Days !  It  is  ages 
ago  here,  but  without  the  dust  of  ages.  Oh, 
it  is  fine  to  have  your  grandmothers'  old 
low-boys  when  you  don't  have  to  have  your 
grandmothers'  old  cobwebs  too!  And  will 
you  really  let  me  see  the  things  you  have 
that  belonged  to  the  President?  What 
treasures  !  oh,  what  treasures  ! " 

And  Miss  Veronica  and  Miss  Sedley  were 
as  wax  in  the  hands  of  this  young  business 
woman;  and  the  gold-embroidered  waist 
coat,  and  the  Malines  lace  ruffles,  and  the 
gold  snuff-box,  and  the  order  given  by  the 
[14] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

King  of  Spain,  and  the  diary  kept  at  sea, 
and  the  sleeve-links  and  the  mourning-ring 
and  the  paste  knee-buckles,  and  the  lock  of 
his  hair,  passed  processionally  before  her. 

"  And  this  work-box,"  said  Miss  Veronica 
at  last,  "was  once  the  property  of  Queen 
Marie  Antoinette." 

"  That ! " 

Miss  Sedley  bridled.  "  Perhaps  you  have 
not  examined  it,"  she  said.  "It  is  ebony 
and  niello- work." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  'm  right  glad  you 
told  me.  I  thought  it  was  just  bits  of 
woodcuts,  you  know,  laid  on  the  black 
wood  and  varnished  over,  like  mamma  used 
to  do." 

"The  i-dea!"  said  Miss  Sedley.  "It 
came  from  the  Little  Trianon.  There  is 
her  thimble  with  the  topaz  top  ;  there  is  the 
bit  of  lace  and  lawn  she  was  beginning  — 
See  where  the  needle  was  stuck  in  hur 
riedly  as  she  laid  it  down.  There  is  a  tiny 
blood-spot  where  she  pricked  her  finger  —  " 

"  Oh,  the  poor  lovely  creature !  the  poor, 
great,  sweet  martyr!  Oh,  Miss  Sidney,  if 
you  would  let  me  touch  it ! "  And  she  lifted 
[15] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

it  over  the  tip  of  her  finger,  and  suddenly 
pressed  her  lips  upon  the  tiny  spot  and  held 
it  to  her  glowing  cheek. 

"  You  dear  ehild  1  You  dear  girl ! "  cried 
Miss  Veronica.  "  How  susceptible  you  are  ! 
We  should  not  have  shown  it  to  you. 
We  —  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  You  have  given  me  such 
a  pleasure !  It  has  been  such  an  expe 
rience  ! " 

And  at  that  Miss  Sedley  had  gone  up 
stairs  and  brought  down  a  gown  in  which 
some  one  had  danced  with  Aaron  Burr,  two 
breadths  and  a  gore  of  a  brocade  whose  deli 
cate  rose  tints  and  multitudinous  yellowing 
ribbons  would  not  have  been  unbecoming  to 
either  of  the  gentle  ladies  then.  "  Now," 
said  Miss  Sedley,  when  this  also  had  been 
sufficiently  admired,  "  I  think  we  really 
must  have  some  sherbet,  sister.  Shall  I 
speak  to  Hark  ? "  And  while  Miss  Veronica 
was  telling  the  adventures  of  that  dance, 
Celeste  was  eating  cherry  ice  with  a  little 
thin  gold  apostle-spoon,  and  wondering  how 
these  people  lived  cut  off  from  the  present ; 
and  if  they  really  were  alive ;  and  were  she 
[16] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

once  outside  could  she  ever  find  the  house 
again ;  and  if  she  could  remember  half  that 
she  had  seen  and  heard.  And  she  walked 
home  almost  as  well  pleased  with  herself  as 
she  was  when,  some  ten  days  afterward,  she 
again  stood  at  the  door  with  the  slip  of 
newspaper  containing  the  letter  in  which 
she  had  described  the  place,  the  house,  the 
treasures,  and  the  ladies  themselves. 

She  received,  as  she  expected,  the  most 
cordial  welcome.  The  sweet  old  ladies  — 
Miss  Veronica  tall  and  slender,  Miss  Sedley 
not  so  tall  and  not  so  slender,  in  their  soft 
muslin  gowns,  with  their  great  feather  fans, 
and  the  faint  flush  of  the  heat  on  their 
cheeks  —  seemed  to  have  been  sitting  in  the 
same  spot  since  she  left  them.  "  I  declare," 
she  said  afterwards,  "  I  wanted  to  pinch 
myself  to  make  sure  it  was  n't  some  absurd 
enchantment,  or  I  was  n't  dreaming,  or 
something."  But  she  only  waved  her  own 
fan  and  unfolded  the  slip  of  newspaper. 

"Now,"  she  said  gayly,  "it  is  my  turn. 
I  have  brought  you  something.     And  I  do 
hope  it  will  give  you  the  pleasure  to  read 
it  that  it  did  me  to  write  it ! " 
2  [17] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Miss  Veronica  and  Miss  Sedley  Sidney 
bent  their  heads  together  over  the  slip  of 
paper  she  handed  them.  She  had  cut  off 
the  scare-heads,  because  she  had  not  been 
responsible  for  them,  and  would  not  have 
had  them  —  "  Two  Ancient  Beauties  of  the 
District,"  "Butterflies  in  Amber,"  "Links 
with  Aaron  Burr"  -and  the  letter  itself  she 
knew  was  not  half  bad.  She  had  taken  off 
her  hat  at  their  request,  they  a  little  flat 
tered  that  youth  had  found  them  pleasant 
enough  to  come  back  so  soon,  and  she  sat 
with  a  smile  on  her  face  expectant  of  the 
smile  on  theirs. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  suddenly  heard  Miss  Veronica 
exclaim,  like  a  cry  of  pain ;  "it  is  impos 
sible  ! " 

"  Oh ! "  Miss  Sedley  echoed  her  sister. 
"  I  cannot  believe  it." 

The  faint  blush  on  their  faces  grew  a  deep 
scarlet,  their  eyes  were  staring  wide  and 
frightened,  their  lips  trembled,  their  hands 
trembled. 

"  1  cannot  read  it,"  stammered  Miss  Ver 
onica.  "I  —  I  —  have  never  been  so  in 
sulted  in  my  life." 

[18] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

"  So  outraged,"  whispered  Miss  Sedley. 

"  So  humiliated  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean ! "  cried 
Celeste,  her  cheeks  blazing.  "  Do  you  — 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Veronica,  looking 
at  her  a  moment  with  burning  eyes.  "  We 
do  not  mean  anything.  Only  please  to  go 
away." 

"  But  I  don't  understand,"  urged  Celeste. 
"  Have  n't  I  said  enough  ?  Have  I  made  a 
mistake  ?  Is  there  anything  wrong  ? " 

"  Oh,  it  is  all  wrong  !  "  cried  Miss  Sedley. 

"  All  wrong  ?  "  Celeste  repeated  tremu 
lously. 

"  Oh,  cruel !     Wrong  and  cruel !  " 

"Wrong  and  cruel!  Why,  there  must 
be —  You  can't —  I  don't  see — " 

"  You  don't  see,"  exclaimed  Miss  Veron 
ica,  "that  you  have  come  into  our  quiet 
lives  and  stripped  them  bare,  and  let  in  the 
glare  as  if  I  threw  that  blind  open  to  the 
sun  ?  That  you  have  violated  our  hos 
pitality  —  " 

"Our  welcome." 

"  Our  friendliness,"  the  slip  of  paper  shak 
ing  in  the  knobby  fingers. 
[19] 


OLD    A  V  A  s  H  i  x  G  T  o  x 

"  Our  confidence." 

"That  you  have  betrayed  us,  exposed  us. 
Oh,  we  shall  not  dare  to  be  seen  upon  the 
street  —  " 

••  To  show  our  faces  ! " 

"I  —  I  thought  you  would  be  pleased," 
faltered  Celeste. 

*•  Pleased  !  Pleased  to  be  held  up  as  a 
show;  to  be  bandied  about  the  crowd  ;  to 
be  vulgarized ;  to  be  in  the  mouth  of 
people  as  if  we  were  criminals ;  to  be  — 
to  be  profaned  —  M 

••  And  we  have  lived  such  quiet  lives,  - 
so  respectable,"  said    Miss   Sedley,  her  lips 
quivering  again.     •'  And  now  our  modesty, 
our  decency  —  v 

"Oh,  don't,  don't,  don't!"  cried  Celeste, 
springing  up  with  her  hands  upon  her  eyes, 
from  which  the  tears  were  spurting.  "  How 
could  I  tell  ?  Every  one  else  has  liked  it. 
People  have  offered  me  money  to  do  it.  It 
is  my  livelihood.  I  get  enough  from  my 
papers  to  pay  a  week's  board  for  the 
letter  —  " 

"A  reporter!" 

••  But,   oh  !    I   would   never,  never   have 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

done  it  if  I  had  thought  you  felt  this  way. 
I  don't  understand  now.  I  don't  see  why. 
Oh,  I  liked  you  so  !  You  were  so  sweet  to 
me.  I  never  saw  any  one  I  felt  so  near  to  all 
at  once.  And  now  —  Oh,  you  are  break 
ing  my  heart!"  And  her  voice  had  risen 
almost  to  a  scream,  and  she  had  thrown  her 
self  on  her  knees  beside  Miss  Veronica,  and 
buried  her  face  in  the  lady's  lap,  sobbing 
bitterly. 

"  I  am  glad  you  feel  so,"  said  Miss  Sed- 
ley.  "  It  is  something  to  have  you  see  what 
you  have  done." 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  she  cried,  lifting  her  hot  wet 
face.  "  It  is  n't  any  matter  about  me.  Oh, 
I  am  so  sorry  1  did  it,  when  you  feel  so  ! 
I  could  n't  know  —  I  never  dreamed  —  oh  ! 
oh  !  oh  ! "  And  she  cried  so  that  Miss  Ver 
onica,  who  at  first  had  shrunk  away,  put 
out  her  hand  and  laid  it  on  her  hair.  But 
the  sobs  only  grew  wilder,  more  uncontrol 
lable,  and  convulsive. 

"  Really,"  said  Miss  Veronica,  "  you 
must  n't.  Indeed  you  must  n't.  I  —  I 
did  n't  know  you  were  so  sensitive  —  I  am 
sure  —  " 

[21] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Please  don't  feel  so,"  prayed  Miss  Sed- 
ley.  "  Oh,  please !  I  forgive  you.  We 
forgive  you.  Oh,  do  get  up  !  You  will 
make  yourself  ill ! "  And  then  it  became 
evident  that  they  had  something  more  on 
their  hands  than  they  could  manage.  The 
thunder  that  had  been  growling  in  the  sky 
for  some  minutes  burst  in  a  sudden  clap. 
Miss  Veronica  reached  for  her  smelling-salts  ; 
and  Miss  Sedley  remembered  and  hastened 
for  something  warm  to  drink ;  and  Celeste, 
vainly  trying  to  swallow  her  sobs  and  stay 
her  tears,  toppled  over  white  and  stiff;  and 
Hark  and  Milly  came  and  carried  her  up 
stairs  ;  and  Miss  Sedley  herself  put  her  to  bed 
in  the  room  in  the  wing  with  the  southern 
exposure  and  the  gallery,  and  sent  for  Dr. 
John.  "  I  don't  know  but  we  have  killed 
her,"  she  whispered  over  and  over  to  Miss 
Veronica. 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Dr.  John  on  taking 
leave,  "that  she  is  about  used  up,  and 
this  was  bound  to  come.  She's  the  most 
hard-working  little  thing  in  town.  Every 
morning  up  at  the  Capitol,  into  the  Depart 
ments,  over  at  the  White  House,  down 
[22] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

to  the  printing-offices,  every  afternoon  at 
the  receptions,  and  every  night  reporting 
a  dinner  or  a  ball,  and  hunting  out  new 
facts  to  write  about  between  whiles." 

"  Oh,  my  goodness,  doctor  !  What  for  ? " 
"  For  the  news  of  the  world.  And  she 
has  a  high  standard  for  the  honor  of  her 
profession,  and  will  run  all  over  town  to 
verify  an  item,  about  a  ribbon,  maybe.  I 
told  her  she  would  break  down  the  last  time 
she  had  one  of  these  attacks.  It  would  wear 
out  a  man  of  brass,  to  say  nothing  of  a  little 
Southern  girl  brought  up  on  eider-down. 
And  just  now  she  seems  to  have  had  a 
shock.  How  in  the  world  came  she  here  ? " 
And  he  looked  about  him  quizzically. 

"  Oh,  she  has  !  She  has  had  a  shock  !  " 
cried  Miss  Sedley.  "  And  it 's  our  fault ! 
I  don't  know  but  we  have  killed  her.  You 
must,  you  must  bring  her  round,  doctor. 
Your  father  could,  and  you  can,"  -with 
the  implicit  confidence  that  every  one  had 
in  Dr.  John  as  the  dispenser  of  life  and 
death  —  "  and  we  will  spare  no  pains."  And 
the  two  poor  ladies  forgot  all  about  the  sin 
of  the  sufferer,  forgot  the  heat  and  their 
[23] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

delicate  old  toilettes,  and  bathed  the  girl, 
and  rubbed  her,  and  fed  her,  and  watched 
over  her  day  and  night. 

"It  is  quite  worth  the  effort,"  said  Miss 
Sedley,  coming  down  into  the  drawing-room, 
where,  after  three  or  four  days  of  anxiety, 
Miss  Veronica  was  drawing  a  free  breath. 
"  The  beautiful  young  creature  —  so  finely 
bred !  How  she  came  to  be  working  like 
she  does  —  that  sort  of  work-  I  reckon 
she  has  n't  any  mother.  You  can  see  she 's 
a  lady  to  the  tips  of  her  fingers.  You  can 
see  it,"  said  Miss  Sedley  in  a  whisper,  "  by 
her  underclothes." 

"  How  pretty  she  is,  lying  there  so  white 
in  all  the  heat!  Oh,  how  I  should  like  a 
daughter  like  that  —  " 

"  Veronica ! " 

"  I  should !  Indeed,  indeedy !  But, 
there  —  " 

"  The  indelicacy  ! " 

"  I  don't  care  anything  about  the  in 
delicacy,"  said  Miss  Veronica,  recklessly. 
"I  should  have  liked  the  daughter.  I 
would  have  taken  better  care  of  her,  too, 
I  reckon  —  " 

MM] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

"  She  told  me  she  was  in  the  Treasury 
once,  sister."  Veronica  deserved  some  re 
proof,  and  should  have  the  undiluted  fact. 
"  In  the  Treasury." 

"  Sedley ! " 

"  And  she  seemed  to  think  it  a  misfortune 
to  have  lost  the  place." 

"  Oh  !  "  shuddered  Miss  Veronica.  "  Do 
not  let  us  think  of  it  any  more."  And  she 
went  out  to  the  pantry  and  poured  a  little 
rose-water  into  the  palms  of  her  hands,  as  if 
she  were  cleansing  herself,  and  Celeste  too, 
of  a  stain.  Then  they  took  up  their  great 
feather  fans  again  with  fresh  enjoyment,  for 
Celeste  was  resting  sweetly  upstairs,  watched 
by  the  young  friend  for  whom  she  had  begged 
them  to  send,  saying  Jinny  had  no  engage 
ment  now,  and  would  be  glad  to  come  and 
relieve  them. 

"It  is  dreadful,  my  giving  you  such 
trouble,"  Celeste  had  sighed.  "  And  bring 
ing  two  people  in  upon  you !  It  only 
shows  what  saints  and  angels  you  are." 

"  Oh,  we  have  grown  so  fond  of  you,  my 
child  ! " 

"  Then  you  will  call  me  Celeste.  I  sha'n't 
[25] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

think  you  Ve  forgiven  me  till  you  call  me 
Celeste." 

"  We  have  forgotten  all  about  forgiving. 
It  was  an  accident,  a  misunderstanding. 
You  will  forget  it  too,  dear  —  I  mean  — 
Celeste." 

They  had  scarcely  composed  themselves 
with  their  fans  when  there  came  a  series  of 
imperious  blows  of  the  knocker,  and  they 
heard  the  prancing  of  horses  down  at  the 
gate. 

"  Why  does  n't  Hark  hurry  ? "  exclaimed 
Miss  Sedley,  with  the  consciousness  that 
such  a  summons  should  be  answered  at 
once,  and  slipping  down  the  hall  herself. 
"  Hark,  where 's  this  you  're  at  ?  Don't  you 
hear  the  door  ? "  she  cried.  And  then 
Hark  brought  in  the  cards  of  the  Russian 
Minister  and  the  inquiries  of  Madame  the 
Princess  for  Miss  Dreer.  And  directly 
afterward  there  came  another  boom  of  the 
knocker,  and  there  was  a  basket  of  flowers 
from  the  White  House.  And  the  news  of 
Miss  Dreer 's  sickness  having  spread,  as  news 
spreads  nowhere  else  with  more  rapidity, 
cards  from  the  British  Embassy  and  from 
[26] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

the  German,  and  the  personal  inquiry  of 
more  than  one  of  the  South  American  Min 
isters,  and  the  cards  of  the  Boynewaters,  and 
of  Madame  D'Arco  and  Miss  Campeador, 
followed  all  the  week  with  flowers  and  fruits 
and  wine  from  these  just  leaving  for  the 
summer  in  Europe,  and  those  for  Newport 
and  the  North. 

"  I  feel  like  I  had  changed  my  identity," 
said  Miss  Sedley. 

"  Because  some  foreign  officials  have  left 
cards  on  our  guests  ? "  said  Miss  Veronica, 
with  dignity. 

"  We  have  been  out  of  the  world  so  long." 

"  We  never  were  in  it  personally,  except 
by  family  tradition." 

"  I  hope  it  won't  keep  Mrs.  Entwisle 
away." 

"  It  seems  absurd,  when  we  hardly  know 
where  next  month's  dinners  are  coming 
from,"  replacing  in  its  envelope  the  bill  she 
had  just  received.  "  We  shall  have  to  sell 
the  G  Street  house  now ;  this  charge  for  the 
betterment  is  more  than  it  is  worth.  It  is 
perfectly  infamous.  But,"  with  a  helpless 
sigh,  "  they  have  everything  their  own  way. 
[27] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

There  is  only  the  place  across  the  Avenue 
left." 

"  Sister  —  why  could  n't  we  keep  Celeste 
here  ?  She  has  to  pay  her  board  elsewhere, 
—  she  said  something  about  a  Mrs.  Mc 
Queen's  —  and  she  may  as  well  pay  it  to 
us  —  " 

"  Pay  us  board  !  "  said  Miss  Veronica. 

"  She  would  n't  stay  if  she  did  n't,  you 
know.  And  that  dear  little  creature  that 
is  taking  care  of  her  —  I  don't  know  why 
I  call  her  little ;  she 's  taller  than  I 
am,  but  she 's  a  dear.  She 's  so  sweet 
and  bright.  I  really  don't  know  which  I 
love  the  best.  And  that  Miss  Constantia 
Gilroy,  who  —  " 

"  Looks  just  like  a  white  lily.  The  Gil- 
roys  are  one  of  the  great  families  of- 

"  And  that  other  engaging  girl  that  comes 
to  see  them,  Raleigh  Cumnor  —  " 

"  She  certainly  is  refinement  and  grace 
itself.  I  wonder  —  " 

"  And  just  see  what  a  difference  it  makes 
with  us  already !     When  I  heard  them  all 
three  laughing  together  this  morning,  oh,  I 
felt  forty  years  younger  ! " 
[28] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

"  If  we  were  only  able  to  keep  open 
house  — 

And  then  there  was  a  rustle  in  the  hall 
where  two  pairs  of  slippered  feet  had  been 
creeping  down  the  stairs. 

"  I  heard  you  !  "  cried  Celeste,  gayly.  "  I 
heard  you  !  Oh,  if  you  only  would  !  We 
would  be  so  well  behaved  —  " 

"  Celeste !  You  here  ?  Oh,  my  dear, 
is  n't  this  imprudent  ?  That  is  right,  Miss 
Jinny,  the  pillows.  There,  dear,  lie  right 
down,"  said  the  two  ladies  together,  bustling 
about  one  of  the  sofas. 

"I  feel  so  nicely,"  said  Celeste,  "  I  could  n't 
have  the  face  to  stay  upstairs  any  more. 
It's  been  an  imposition  anyway.  And  I 
really  think  we  must  go  home,  unless  you 
were  in  earnest  just  now  and  would  let  us 
stay  that  way.  You  know  we  could  n't  stay 
and  be  a  burden  —  if  we  didn't  do  just  as 
we  do  down  at  Mrs.  McQueen's.  And  it 
would  be  the  kindest,  loveliest,  and  most 
Christian  act,  giving  homes  to  two  home 
less  girls,  which  the  most  they  could  pay 
would  n't  half  pay  for  —  " 

"  Oh,  sister,"  cried  Miss  Sedley,  "  it  seems 
[29] 


OLD    A V ASHINGTON 

too  good  to  be  true  —  to  keep  these  dear 
things  all  the  time  !  You  will  say  Yes  ? " 

"  Sedley,  if  you  will  promise  not  to  shed 
a  tear.  We  can't  have  Celeste  excited  one 
atom.  Yes,  you  shall  send  for  your  trunks, 
my  dears.  And  if  you  like  the  home 
it  shall  be  yours  while  it  is  ours."  And 
Celeste,  who  could  not  be  excited,  tottered 
up  from  the  sofa  and  fell  upon  their  necks, 
with  an  arm  round  each,  in  a  passion  of 
tears  and  kisses. 

"  To  think  of  having  a  home  ! "  she  cried. 
"  And  such  a  home  !  And  with  you  !  Oh, 
Jinny,  does  n't  it  seem  as  if  we  had  gone  to 
heaven  !  And,  oh,  it  is  really  —  really  too 
hot  for  heroics  ! " 

It  was  several  days  after  Jinny  had 
brought  up  and  disposed  their  worldly 
belongings,  and  a  feeling  of  peace  and 
bliss,  a  sense  of  youth  and  cheer,  had  set 
tled  over  the  household,  that  Miss  Sedley 
brought  to  Celeste's  sofa  a  number  of 
the  cards  that  had  been  left  during  her 
illness.  They  had  been  sitting  in  the 
moonlight,  while  the  night  fragrances  of 
the  garden  rolled  in  softly  all  about  them, 
[30] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

and  the  candles  had  been  but  a  little  while 
lighted. 

" '  Senor  and  Madame  Castilla,' ':  read 
Celeste.  "  Yes.  I  Ve  been  a  very  good 
friend  of  theirs.  And  they  know  it." 

"  You ! "  said  Miss  Veronica,  as  if  she 
had  heard  the  mouse  boast  in  relation  to 
the  lion. 

"  Oh,  yes.  You  know,  I  have  written  a 
good  deal  about  both  of  them.  In  Europe 
the  censorship  of  the  press  gives  importance 
to  every  item  ;  and  if  anything  really  is  in 
the  paper  they  feel  there  that  it  means  some 
thing.  And  so  all  I  have  said  about  them 
—  they  cut  out  every  scrap  and  sent  it 
home  —  counted  for  more  than  it  was  worth. 
And  when  they  were  going  away  —  you 
know  they  were  promoted  to  another  mis 
sion,  and  he  was  made  a  Grand  Panjandrum 
or  something  —  she  sent  for  me  and  told  me 
all  this,  and  gave  me  that,"  and  she  held  out 
her  hand  with  its  ring  of  sapphires  and 
diamonds. 

"It  —  it  seems  impossible,"  murmured 
Miss  Sedley,  under  her  breath. 

"  But,  my  love,"  said  Miss  Veronica, 
[31] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  because  they  like  flattery,  it  does  n't  make 
the  business  —  the  dealing  in  personality  — 
any  less  reprehensible." 

"  Sister ! " 

"  Well,  dear,  perhaps  not,"  said  Celeste, 
"  when  you  show  me  that  it  is  reprehensible. 
People  want  it,  at  any  rate ;  and  people 
will  have  what  they  want ;  and  if  I  don't 
give  it  to  them  another  will." 

"  You  might  say  that  of  any  disgraceful 
business." 

"  But  it  is  n't  disgraceful,"  said  Celeste, 
coaxingly.  "  You  need  a  great  deal  of  en 
lightenment.  I  describe  the  inside  of  a 
beautiful  home  ;  it  shows  them  far  in  the 
wilderness  how  to  have  a  beautiful  home. 
I  describe  a  fine  lady ;  women  all  over  the 
country  can  be  fine  ladies  on  that  model. 
I  tell  the  social  happenings  ;  and  I  don't 
know  that  they  are  not  as  much  to  the 
purpose  really  as  the  political  happenings. 
I  'm  sure  they  're  a  great  deal  pleasanter. 
Just  look  at  this  place  before  they  had  tele 
graphs  and  reporters  and  correspondents  and 
interviewers  —  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  how  perfect,  how  lovely  it  was  ! " 
[32] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

"  You  dear  little  innocent  angels  !  Well, 
we  let  a  flood  of  light  in.  And  men  can't 
do  now  as  they  did  then  —  without  being 
found  out,  you  know.  Oh,  yes,  and  here  are 
the  Russian  Embassy  cards  again.  How 
good  it  was  to  send  their  carriage  for  us  to 
take  the  air  !  " 

"  It  made  me  feel  like  an  adventuress, 
driving  out  in  state  with  imperial  arms  on 
the  carriage  door,"  said  Miss  Veronica. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Miss  Sedley.  "I 
reckon  I  enjoyed  it.  Although  I  was  a  little 
afraid  of  the  men  servants. 

"  Well,  you  saw  what  a  splendid  city  they 
are  making  of  it  —  " 

"At  our  expense." 

"And  there  never  was  a  sweeter  sight 
in  that  carriage,"  said  Miss  Jinny,  "than 
your  two  dear  aristocratic  faces." 

"  Oh,  but  the  Princess  herself  is  beautiful," 
said  Celeste.  "I  wish  you  had  seen  her 
leaving  her  box,  with  her  velvet  and  ermine 
cloak  falling  about  her,  and  the  long  thick 
braid  of  her  fair  hair  down  one  side  to  her 
knee.  '  A  daughter  of  the  gods,  divinely 
tall,  and  most  divinely  fair."  Don't  you 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

remember,  Jinny  dear?  It  was  the  night 
you  made  your  hit  in  Cinderella  After 
wards,  and  the  house  came  down,  and  you 
thought  they  were  applauding  the  beauti 
ful  Princess,  and  that  made  them  go  wild 
with  applauding  you  again,  and  all  the 
diplomats  and  the  little  attaches  stood  up 
and  shouted,  and  the  stage  was  half  cov 
ered  with  flowers  for  you  —  " 

"  The  stage ! "  exclaimed  two  startled 
voices. 

"  Why,  yes  ;  the  stage  of  the  National, 
where  she  had  her  last  engagement.  And 
she  had  the  offer  of  an  engagement  from  a 
New  York  manager  the  very  next  day  but 
one,  and  she  refused  it,  the  little  goose,  so 
that  she  might  stay  on  at  the  National  till 
it  closed,  and  be  with  me  at  Mrs.  McQueen's 
and  get  her  things  ready  to  marry  Jerome, 
when,  if  she  'd  kept  on,  she  might  be  one  of 
the  great  actresses  —  " 

"  An  actress  !  " 

"  She  's  a  very  good  one  as  it  is.  Oh,  she 
can  make  you  laugh,  and  she  can  make  you 
cry,  and  her  dancing  is  —  " 

"  A  dancer  ! " 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

Miss  Veronica  was  as  white  as  death. 
Miss  Sedley  was  secretly,  but  involuntarily, 
crossing  herself. 

"  Oh,  that  I  should  live  to  see  the  day  !  " 
one  murmured. 

"  Merciful  Mother  ! "   moaned  the  other. 

"  Miss  Veronica  !  Dear  Miss  Sedley  ! 
What  is  it  ? "  cried  the  girls,  springing 
toward  them.  "What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Oh  !  "  Miss  Sedley  was  whispering.  "  I 
must  see  Father  Walter." 

But  Miss  Veronica  waved  them  off,  gath 
ering  her  skirts  away.  "  In  our  house ! " 
she  exclaimed.  "  In  our  mother's  drawing- 
room  !  The  pollution  of  it ! " 

"What,  what,  Miss  Sidney!" 

"  An  actress  !  "  and  Miss  Veronica's  tones 
were  unmistakable. 

"Oh!"  And  both  the  girls  fell  back. 
But  in  a  moment  Celeste  had  thrown  her 
arms  round  Jinny,  who  had  begun  to  cry. 

"  Did  n't  you  know  she  was  an  actress  ?  " 
she  exclaimed  to  the  two  horrified  ladies. 
"  I  thought  every  one  knew  it.  And  what 
of  it  ?  Most  of  the  people  here  would  think 
it  an  honor  to  have  her  in  their  houses.  An 
[35] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

actress,  indeed  !  Virginia  Cantrell  is  just  as 
good  as  I  am,  and  a  great  deal  better,  for 
she  is  a  genius,  too,  and  she  is  the  soul  of 
honor  and  uprightness.  She  is  just  as  good 
as  you  are  !  She  is  better  !  "  cried  the  infu 
riated  Celeste.  "  For  she  does  n't  keep  out 
of  the  way  of  the  world  for  fear  of  being 
contaminated,  but  she  is  in  the  world,  doing 
her  duty  with  the  talent  God  gave  her,  and 
not  contaminated  by  it.  And  you  had  bet 
ter  ask  Father  White  about  her,  and  he  '11 
tell  you  she 's  as  true  a  Catholic  as  you  are. 
You  run  right  upstairs  and  pack  your  trunk, 
Jinny,  and  1 11  pack  mine.  I  would  n't  stay 
another  night  in  this  house  for  money !  I 
thought  it  was  too  good  to  be  true  —  our 
having  such  a  pleasant  home,"  and  here 
Celeste  began  to  cry,  "  with  two  angels  — 
narrow-minded  angels  —  but  angels  all  the 
same.  Live  creatures  sweeping  by  on  the 
current  —  could  n't  live  with  barnacles  - 

Was  Jinny  acting  ?  It  crossed  Miss  Ve 
ronica's  mind  that  here  was  more  desecra 
tion  of  the  drawing-room  with  its  portraits 
and  spider-legged  tables  and  jars  of  pot 
pourri  packed  by  dear  fingers  a  half-hundred 
[36] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

years  ago  and  more.  And  then  she  felt  as 
if  her  heart  were  a  millstone  that  would  sink 
her  into  a  bottomless  pit.  She  instinctively 
put  her  hand  in  her  reticule  for  the  compan 
ionship  of  her  little  rosary. 

For  Jinny  had  left  Celeste,  and  was 
approaching  her  with  outstretched  arms. 
"  Miss  Sidney,"  she  said,  "  you  're  not  going 
to  send  me  away  for  that  ?  You  dont  think 
there  is  any  harm  in  me?  You  can't  tell 
what  it  has  been  to  me  to  think  I  had  this 
resting-place.  I  should  have  played  so  much 
better  if  I  had  always  had  such  a  support 
behind  me.  And,  indeed,  I  can't  think  what 
you  mean.  I  never  did  anything  you  need 
be  ashamed  of  if  you  were  my  own  mother." 

The  candles  only  made  darkness  visible 
in  the  long  room  round  the  little  spot 
near  Celeste.  But  the  moonlight  streamed 
through  the  window  and  bathed  the  girl  in 
a  white  glow  —  so  tender,  so  appealing,  so 
innocent  -  No,  no,  only  a  play  actress ! 
Miss  Veronica  lifted  her  open  hand  as  if 
warding  off  a  great  terror  or  a  bitter  draught, 
and  turned  her  head  aside.  "It  is  very 
late,"  she  said  hoarsely.  "  We  will  not  talk 
[37] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

any  more.  Please  go  to  bed."  And  as  she 
stood  up  there  was  an  air  of  gentle  authority 
about  her  that  was  not  to  be  disobeyed. 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Celeste,  as  she  hurried  by 
her,  following  Jinny.  "  I  Ve  no  doubt  you 
will  go  to  heaven,  you  are  so  good.  But 
how  surprised  you  will  be  when  you  get 
there  to  find  Jinny  nearer  to  God  than 
you  are ! " 

Miss  Veronica  put  out  the  candles,  and 
looked  round  for  her  sister.  But  Miss 
Sedley  had  gone  too.  She  sank  into  the 
arm-chair  by  the  hearth  that  Celeste  had 
filled  with  ferns  from  Kalorama,  forgetting 
to  close  the  windows  through  which  the 
summer  night  breeze  still  rolled  heavy  with 
perfumes  into  the  moonlighted  place.  She 
was  entirely  bewildered,  weak  and  faint  with 
her  mental  confusion.  She  did  not  know 
whether  she  had  suffered  a  degradation,  her 
mother's  parlor  a  desecration,  or  whether 
she  must  reverse  the  opinions,  the  prejudices 
of  a  lifetime.  Why  had  all  this  oversetting 
come  to  her  ?  Why  had  she  been  suffered 
to  grow  fond  of  this  young  actress — the 
word  made  her  shiver ;  why  had  it  not  been 
[38] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

that  Miss  Gilroy,  who  looked  as  if  she  were 
carved  out  of  a  pearl,  who  had  come  more 
than  once  to  inquire  for  Celeste,  or  that 
pretty  Raleigh  Cumnor,  Celeste's  other 
friend,  who  ran  in  every  day  and  made  the 
house  gay  with  laughter  ?  She  had  a  warm 
feeling  for  that  child  the  moment  she  saw 
her  —  old  General  Cumnor 's  daughter  they 
called  her.  There  had  been  a  time  when 
Tom  Cumnor  —  However,  all  that  was  in 
the  golden  age.  And  these  were  dark  days. 
She  was  cold  in  all  the  warm  night,  filled 
with  a  sort  of  vague  horror  of  she  knew  not 
what.  Perhaps  she  fell  asleep ;  she  did  not 
know ;  but  certainly  the  broad  moonbeam 
had  come  round  and  fallen  full  upon  her 
mother's  portrait,  lighting  the  wistful  eyes 
and  the  sweet  mouth  there ;  had  slowly 
shifted  and  lain  across  the  picture  in  the 
panel  and  silvered  it  with  a  glory  —  an  old 
print  of  the  Shepherd  with  the  stray  lamb 
in  His  arms,  and  with  the  gaze  of  unspeak 
able  tenderness  in  His  eyes,  the  gaze  bent 
full  on  her  and  seeming  to  search  her  soul. 
If  she  were  in  the  body  or  out  of  it,  Miss 
Veronica  could  not  have  told,  only  for  an 
[39] 


OLD    W ASHINGTON 

instant  her  soul  was  bared  to  her  own  gaze. 
And  then  the  moonlight  passed,  and  she 
was  shivering  like  one  alone  in  a  wide  black 
desert,  and  felt  suddenly,  with  a  sense  of 
infinite  relief,  the  warmth  of  two  young 
arms  about  her  neck,  and  heard  Jinny  say 
ing  :  "  Oh,  you  must  n't  be  afraid  of  me.  I 
truly  am  not  bad.  Dear,  I  can't  have  you 
sitting  up  down  here  alone.  Don't  you  fret 
-I  am  going  away  of  my  own  accord. 
Poor  Miss  Veronica,  you  must  go  to  bed 
or  you  '11  be  ill."  And  she  had  reached 
up  her  arms  and  drawn  the  girl  down  into 
her  lap  and  hidden  her  old  face  in  her 
breast. 

And  directly  afterward  there  was  a  swish 
of  drapery  and  patter  of  feet  on  the  matting. 
"  Oh,  sister  !  sister  ! "  sobbed  Miss  Sedley. 
"  You  know  the  world  moves,  and  we  must 
move  with  it.  And  our  mother  used  to  say 
we  were  n't  here  to  judge  but  to  help.  And 
if  we  love  our  Lord,  we  must  do  the  work 
of  our  Lord.  And  Celeste  feels  so  badly 
that  she  spoke  so !  And  if  they  're  not  good, 
we  must  make  them  good.  And  they  are  — 
oh,  they  're  every  whit  as  good  as  —  as  any 
[40] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

one  ! "  Just  then  the  mocking-birds  hang 
ing  in  their  cages  outside  the  windows  of 
the  next  street  suddenly  burst  into  their 
wild  night-song ;  and  with  their  arms  round 
one  another  the  four  happy  people  had  a 
beautiful  time  crying  together. 

The  air  next  morning  was  like  air  puri 
fied  by  a  thunder-storm  passing  through  it. 
When  Raleigh  Cumnor  stopped  to  ask  if 
Celeste  had  a  letter  for  her  to  post,  Miss 
Veronica's  prepossessions  gave  their  last 
flicker. 

"  It 's  too  bad  to  be  bound  to  a  desk  in 
the  Treasury  when  you  would  like  to  be 
flying  down  the  Potomac  on  the  Arrow," 
said  Raleigh. 

"  Tom  Cumnor 's  daughter  in  the  Treas 
ury  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Veronica. 

"  And  mighty  glad  to  be  there,"  said 
Raleigh.  "  At  least  in  general,  you  know. 
Just  for  this  moment,  perhaps,  I  would 
prefer  being  a  bird  out  in  the  Rock  Creek 
woods,  or  a  young  colt  rolling  on  the  flowers 
of  the  high-field  up  where  we  used  to  live 
in  the  Virginia  hills." 

"  I  wish  you  would  take  me  down  to  the 
[41] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Treasury   some    day,   Raleigh,"   said    Miss 
Veronica,  meekly.    "  I  should  like  to  see  — 

"  Oh,  come  now  ! "  cried  Raleigh,  "  before 
it  is  any  warmer.  I  will  show  you  all  over 
it  —  the  beautiful  cash-room  and  the  great 
vaults  full  of  gold.  And  you  shall  see  them 
printing  new  greenbacks  upstairs  and  count 
ing  old  ones  downstairs  —  enough  to  make 
you  despise  money,  though  I  don't  know 
how  you  could  despise  it  any  more  than 
you  do." 

"  I  Ve  had  such  a  delightful  morning," 
said  Miss  Veronica,  when  she  came  home, 
and  Jinny  had  taken  her  bonnet  and  para 
sol,  and  she  sat  sipping  the  iced  buttermilk 
that  Celeste  brought  her,  while  Miss  Sed- 
ley  had  her  clabber  and  cream.  "And  it 
seems  to  me  as  if  the  Treasury  were  fairly 
peopled  with  ghosts.  I  Ve  seen  the  sisters 
and  wives  and  widows  and  daughters  of 
half  the  people  we  used  to  know  in  the 
old  days,  that  had  dropped  out  of  the  great 
world  —  " 

"Into   the  greater   world,"  said   Celeste. 

"  Why,  it 's  our  Faubourg  St.  Germain ! 
And,  Sedley,  you  must  go  down  yourself. 
[42] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

We  really  must  make  a  business  of  acquaint 
ing  ourselves  with  affairs  - 

"  I  don't  know  how  Father  Walter  —  " 

"No  one  would  like  it  better  than  that 
noble,  comforting  spirit.  I  feel  as  if  we 
had  been  asleep  while  things  were  grow 
ing.  You  Ve  no  idea  what  a  country 
it  is !  I  am  going  to  the  Patent  Office 
to-morrow,  and  then  —  Who  is  that  ?  " 
For  a  young  man  was  mounting  the  terrace 
two  steps  at  a  time. 

"  I  must  break  it  to  you  gently,"  said 
Celeste,  laughing,  but  catching  her  disen 
gaged  hand,  with  its  little  thready  rings. 
"  It  is  Jinny's  Jerome.  And  he  is  a  New- 
Englander ! " 

But  Miss  Veronica  rose  to  the  occasion. 
"I  suppose  he  is  also  an  American,"  she 
said. 

"  He  is  a  scientific  man.  And  he  has 
—  discovered  a  germ." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  n't  his  fault,"  said  Miss 
Veronica. 

"  I  hope  it  is  n't  unfeminine,"  said  Miss 
Sedley  to  her  sister  one  night  some  weeks 
afterward,  when  Celeste  had  gone  upstairs 
[43] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

to  finish  her  Graphic  letter,  and  Jinny  had 
gone  down  to  the  gate  with  her  lover,  "  but 
I  must  say  it  is  pleasant  to  have  a  man 
going  and  coming  about  the  house.  It  — 
it  makes  you  feel  as  if  you  were  alive,  and 
not  shut  off  from  the  world.  It  makes  you 
feel  as  if  you  belonged  to  the  race.  It  really 
makes  you  feel  as  if,  after  all,  you  weren't 
set  away  on  a  shelf  to  mould.  It 's  natural 
to  have  a  man  about  the  house.  We've 
been  living  an  unnatural  life." 

"  I  don't  know  how  we  could  have  helped 
it,"  said  Miss  Veronica. 

"  Well,  it  can't  last  long,"  said  Miss  Sed- 
ley,  pensively.  "  He  11  take  her  away  pres 
ently.  But  there 's  this  about  it :  he  '11  be 
coming  back  to  attend  to  that  bill  of  his 
in  the  winter.  It's  a  serious  matter  with 
him,  Celeste  says,  to  carry  that  bill." 

"  Then  he  must  carry  it,"  said  Miss  Ver 
onica.  "  Let  me  see,"  she  said,  after  a 
pause  in  which  she  was  lost  in  thought, 
"  is  n't  there  a  senator  by  the  name  of 
Sumner  ?  I  thought  there  was.  He  was 
very  wrong  on  the  slavery  question,  was  n't 
he  ?  Well,  bygones  are  bygones.  And  he 
[44] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

is  interested  in  old  prints  and  medals,  some 
one  said.  And "  -  here  she  lowered  her 
voice  —  "  is  n't  —  is  n't  —  is  n't  Butler  in  the 
House  —  do  you  say  ?  I  shall  go  to  see 
him.  Oh,  yes,  oh,  yes,  I  shall.  I  shall  pre 
sent  the  case.  He  must  be  a  power.  And 
—  let  me  see,"  she  said  again,  with  her 
finger  on  her  lips,  "who  are  our  own 
senators  ? " 

"  We  have  n't  any,  you  know,"  said  Miss 
Sedley,  bitterly.  "They  are  all  —  what  is 
it  they  call  them  ?  —  carpet-baggers." 

"  Very  well.  Carpet-baggers  will  want 
the  countenance  of  the  old  gentility.  I  shall 
see  them  all."  And  although  her  heart  was 
shaking  and  her  voice  was  trembling,  the 
gentle  old  lady,  who  had  never  yet  dared 
stop  a  street  car  by  herself,  was  already 
lobbying  Jerome's  bill  through  Congress 
for  all  she  was  worth. 

Miss  Sedley  glanced  at  the  portraits  on 
the  wall  with  an  air  of  apprehension.  But 
the  personage  in  knee-breeches  and  a  pow 
dered  wig,  with  the  sword  at  his  side,  the 
roll  of  parchment  in  his  hand,  and  the  red 
curtain  and  the  thunder-storm  behind  him, 
[45] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

continued  looking  over  her  head  in  sublime 
unconcern ;  and  as  for  the  wax  medallions 
in  their  tarnished  frames,  the  lady  there  in 
low  relief,  with  a  high  comb  and  an  eye 
askew,  and  the  gentleman  with  a  stiff  stock 
and  a  bang,  went  on  gazing  at  each  other 
with  stolid  indifference  to  the  affairs  of  a 
lesser  world  than  theirs.  But  the  glance 
somehow  reassured  Miss  Sedley.  Whatever 
new  scenes  shifted  across  the  view,  the 
globe  still  moved  on  the  same  axis. 

It  was  in  the  mild  and  beautiful  Novem 
ber  weather,  when  all  the  blue  river  dis 
tances  were  swathed  with  sun-gilded  hazes, 
the  late  roses  were  still  blooming,  and  the 
bland  Indian  summer  was  sweeter  than  ever 
real  summer  was,  that  Miss  Veronica  sat  at 
the  head  of  her  table,  one  morning,  ready 
to  carve  a  Potomac  swan.  "  My  dears," 
she  said  to  the  bride  and  groom  on  her 
either  hand  —  when,  after  a  nuptial  mass, 
they  had  come  home  to  a  Thanksgiving 
breakfast,  before  leaving  for  Jerome's  home 
in  Hillburn,  while  Celeste,  and  Raleigh,  that 
lovely  Connie  Gilroy  and  Miss  Sedley  as 
sisted,  the  latter  resplendent  in  an  adapta- 
[46] 


A    THANKSGIVING    BREAKFAST 

tion  of  the  Aaron  Burr  brocade  which  Jinny 
had  made  without  injuring  it  —  "my  dears, 
it  is  not  especially  a  festival  of  our  Church, 
and  it  is  not  a  festival  of  our  part  of  the 
country,  at  least  it  used  not  to  be  —  I  don't 
know  that  we  ever  kept  the  day  before, 
Sedley  ?  But  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  suffi 
ciently  honor  it  and  express  my  thanks 
to-day  for  the  goodness  which,  against  our 
will,  has  taken  us  out  of  the  clefts  of  the 
rock  and  into  the  living  currents  by  over 
turning  our  prejudices  and  enlightening  our 
ignorance." 

"  You  mean  by  giving  us  all  these  young 
people,  sister,"  regardless  of  the  spot  made 
by  every  falling  tear. 

"  Yes,  these  poor  young  people  who  never 
can  know  any  such  pleasure  as  ours,  unless 
when  they  shall  be  old  and  sad  and  lonely 
and- 

"And  tired  to  death  of  life  as  it  was, 
sister." 

"They   shall   have  young   blood   poured 
into  their  veins  as  we  have  had,  young  eyes 
given  them  to  see  the  world,  young  voices 
to  put  them  in  tune  with  it  —  " 
[47] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  And  young  hearts  to  make  them  love 
it ! "  cried  Celeste. 

And  as  they  all  fell  on  Miss  Veronica 
and  Miss  Sedley  in  turn,  the  latter,  strug 
gling  and  blushing  and  rearranging  herself, 
exclaimed :  "  It 's  a  sort  of  new  mission 
field,  is  n't  it  ?  The  mission  of  Youth  to 
Age.  But,  oh,  Veronica!"  she  said,  "don't 
you  remember  Bettie  Brierley,  who  declared 
there  were  four  men  she  would  never  marry 
—  a  preacher,  or  a  Protestant,  or  a  French 
man,  or  a  widower  ? " 

"And  she  is  the  third  wife  of  a  French 
Protestant  preacher,"  said  Miss  Veronica, 
examining  her  carving-knife.  "  I  dare  say 
she  knows  a  good  deal  more  now  than  she 
did  then.  I  suppose  you  mean  how  scan 
dalized  we  should  have  been  a  year  ago  at 
this  Thanksgiving  Breakfast." 


[48] 


II 

A  Guardian  Angel 


A  Guardian  Angel 

BEFORE  Mrs.  McQueen's  house - 
of  whose  heat  Miss  Celeste  Dreer 
had  complained  so  bitterly  to  Miss 
Veronica  and  Miss  Sedley  Sidney  —  was  im 
proved  off  the  face  of  Fifteenth  Street  it  had 
an  extension  in  the  rear,  into  the  long  low 
upper  room  of  which  opened  a  door  on  the 
landing  half-way  up  the  front  stairs.  And 
although  the  main  house  was  filled  with  her 
boarders,  in  this  extension  Mrs.  McQueen 
had  her  own  rooms  and  a  few  lodgers  who 
preferred  to  board  themselves,  these  for  rea 
sons  of  economy,  those  because  Welcker's  or 
Willard's  offered  them  superior  attraction. 
And  there,  part  of  the  room  curtained  away 
for  a  bed,  lodged  Mrs.  Gilroy  and  her  daugh 
ter  Connie,  the  most  conspicuous  article  of 
their  very  poor  furnishing  a  great  gilded 
harp,  which  afforded  a  singular  contrast  to 
the  dingy  carpet,  the  calico  lounge,  the  bare 
walls. 

[51] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

The  Gilroys  had  come  up  from  the  South. 
But  as  they  never  said  anything  concerning 
themselves,  for  a  time  no  one  immediately 
about  them  knew  if  the  war  had  ruined  their 
fortunes,  or  if  they  had  never  had  any  for 
tunes.  It  was  remembered  that  the  daugh 
ter  had  once  been  at  school  at  the  convent 
over  in  Georgetown,  and  that  Sister  Blan- 
dine  had  taught  her  music  ;  and  that  was  all. 
They  had  no  influence,  no  friends,  almost 
no  acquaintances.  The  daughter,  with  some 
slight  thrill  of  the  instinct  of  the  new  gener 
ation,  had  gone  to  the  Representatives  of 
her  State  and  had  asked  them  to  procure  her 
a  situation  under  government ;  and  possibly 
moved  by  her  wonderful  white  beauty,  they 
had  found  her  a  place  in  the  Printing  Bureau, 
at  forty-five  dollars  a  month.  She  had  not 
far  to  walk  to  her  work,  which  at  that  time 
had  its  hot  and  close  quarters  directly  under 
the  roof  of  the  Treasury  Building;  and 
wrapped  in  a  great  apron,  she  did  without  a 
sign  of  discomposure  what  once  she  would 
hardly  have  asked  of  her  slaves. 

That  she  had  had  slaves,  Tolly,  after  her 
own  appearance  on  the  scene,  took  care  that 
[52] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

every  one  should  know.  "  She  'ain'  neber 
lif  her  han'  ter  her  head,"  said  Tolly  once  to 
the  messenger  in  the  office,  "  wid  a  t'ousan' 
niggers  ter  say  do  dis  an'  dey  done  do  it. 
Yere,  now,  honey,"  opening  the  little  lunch 
eon  she  had  brought  up  from  her  own 
kitchen,  "yo'  ma  say  yo'  pick  eb'ry  bone. 
He  was  crowin'  w'en  de  ball  done  fall,  dat  ar 
birhed  was.  She  say  she  ain'  no  way  satisfy 
in  regards  to  yo'  appletite  to  eat,  Miss 
Connie." 

But  if  Tolly  was  communicative,  Miss 
Connie  was  very  silent,  making  no  conversa 
tion,  prosecuting  no  acquaintance.  It  was 
generally  supposed  that  her  silence  was  an 
expression  of  proud  unwillingness,  and  of 
course  it  did  not  render  her  popular  in  the 
office. 

But  there  was  a  good  deal  of  concern  in 
the  house  regarding  their  poor  affairs  ;  for  it 
was  evident  that  they  had  no  money,  and 
equally  evident  that  their  monthly  income 
could  do  no  more  than  pay  the  rent  of  their 
room  and  give  them  the  simplest  food. 
That  was  the  reason  that  to  more  than  one 
person  in  the  house  besides  Mrs.  McQueen 
[53] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

herself,  whose  tender  heart  was  sore  for  them, 
the  flapping  sound  that  came  every  night  at 
about  ten  o'clock  brought  something  like  a 
startled  pang  of  foreboding.  It  was  Mrs. 
Gilroy  shaking  Miss  Connie's  skirt  again 
and  once  again  out  of  the  window.  Care 
fully  then  she  went  over  it,  picking  off  every 
bit  of  lint,  and  brushing  it  daintily  as  if  it 
were  a  fairy  cobweb.  For  how  in  the  world, 
when  that  was  gone,  would  they  ever  be 
able  to  have  another  ?  And  every  one  who 
heard  the  sound  knew  that  was  the  mother's 
thought ;  and  although  several  would  have 
been  glad  to  slip  the  price  of  a  new  gown 
under  the  door  on  the  landing,  yet  every  one 
felt  it  would  be  inflicting  a  wound.  Indeed, 
as  well  offer  charity  to  a  princess  of  the 
blood  as  to  this  cold  and  unapproachably 
sweet  Miss  Constantia  Gilroy  and  her  lan 
guid  mother  —  a  dark  and  slender  little  wo 
man,  who  was  only  unquenchable  spirit  and 
various  ganglions  of  nerves. 

Once  in  a  while  some  of  the  ladies  in  the 
house  stepped  into  Mrs.  Gilroy 's  room  for  a 
half-hour's  chat  in  the  early  evening ;  some 
times  dear  little  Mrs.  McQueen  herself ;  ad- 
[54] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

mitted  perhaps  by  Tolly,  who  was  usually 
to  be  found  there  then  —  Mrs.  Gilroy's  old 
Tolly  on  whom  she  had  stumbled  in  the 
street.  "  Dess  es  grad  ter  see  me  es  ef  de 
Lawd  hed  fotch  me  wid  a  string  —  an'  so  he 
did,  I  spec'  I  reckon.  'Ain'  had  de  misery 
in  my  breas'  since,"  said  Tolly.  "  Own 
folkses  de  bes'  kin'  er  med'cine,  sho  'miff." 
Very  rarely  indeed  Mrs.  Gilroy  and  her 
daughter  returned  the  call.  But  no  one 
went  too  often.  Even  Miss  Celeste  Dreer, 
who  at  first  thought  to  exploit  them  for 
copy,  felt  their  condition  too  keenly  to  pro 
fane  it.  Tolly,  to  be  sure,  came  up  from 
her  shanty  every  evening,  not  able  to  ex 
press  sufficiently  her  contentment  at  having 
found  her  former  mistress  and  the  child, 
whose  mammy  she  had  been.  The  breath 
of  liberty  was  sweet  in  Tolly's  nostrils  ;  she 
had  a  huge  regard  for  her  Cassio  as  a  free 
man,  who  owned  his  own  mule  and  tip- 
cart  ;  even  her  son,  Aby,  seemed  to  her  a 
superior  being,  having  been  born  free.  They 
were  a  part  of  herself.  But  if  to  her  un 
spoken  fancy  Miss  Jule  had  not  immortal 
ichor  in  her  veins,  yet  she  belonged  to 
[55] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

a  region  somewhere  between  heaven  and 
earth,  and  it  was  Tolly's  pride  and  joy  that 
she  was  allowed  to  love  her.  Moreover, 
Tolly  found  washing  to  do  for  some  of  the 
boarders,  and  many  a  good  bite,  besides, 
from  Mrs.  McQueen's  table. 

But  the  Gilroys  slipped  in  and  out  of  the 
house  so  silently  that  it  seemed  as  if  their 
concern  were  only  to  efface  themselves  ;  as 
if  they  would  not  obtrude  upon  the  recollec 
tion  of  fate,  lest  they  should  be  dealt  fresh 
blows.  Only  sometimes,  late  in  the  even 
ing,  out  of  the  long  low  room  the  tones  of 
the  harp  throbbed  full  and  golden,  till  one 
felt  as  if  great  wings  were  sweeping  through 
the  house. 

At  least  that  is  what  Jack  Knowles  felt. 
And  from  the  first  time  he  heard  it,  he  could 
never  quite  dissever  his  thought  of  Connie 
Gilroy  and  of  some  white  and  lofty  princess 
of  a  time  of  fabled  story.  Poor  Connie  - 
tall  and  fair  and  stately  as  ever  any  princess 
was,  and  innocent  past  belief ;  for  never  any 
one  lived,  except  Connie's  mother,  more 
ignorant  of  the  world  of  men  and  the  world 
of  books,  and,  alas !  of  almost  everything 
[56] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

else.  Poor  Connie's  mother,  too,  in  whose 
mind  there  were  but  four  distinct  ideas  — 
that  she  was  a  rebel ;  that  to  be  in  society 
was  to  be  blessed ;  that  Connie  was  a 
beauty ;  that  they  might  lose  the  office  - 
was  as  much  a  child  as  her  daughter,  and 
timid  as  if  the  world  were  a  den  of  lions. 

Helene  and  Agnes  Boynewater  had  just 
come  over  to  meet  their  father,  the  Gen 
eral,  who  had,  as  it  chanced,  all  the  first 
floor  of  the  house  and  part  of  the  second, 
and  they  remembered,  as  soon  as  they  saw 
her,  that  they  had  been  at  school  with 
Connie  at  the  Sacred  Heart ;  and  they 
tapped  at  the  door  one  night,  as  they 
heard  the  harp  playing,  and  made  a  call, 
that  began  with  stateliness  and  ended  with 
a  little  -  -  a  very  little  -  -  good-fellowship. 
They  made  two  or  three  calls  before  any 
were  returned. 

"  It 's  too  bad,  Helene,"  said  Agnes,  one 
night,  as  she  slipped  on  her  new  gown. 
"  Connie  would  be  such  a  beauty  in  a  dress 
like  this.  She  would  like  it  so !  And  we 
could  take  her  as  well  as  not  —  Mrs.  Brown- 
low  is  so  good-natured.  It  would  be  better 
[57] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

than  a  play  to  see  her  ;  it  really  would.  And 
it  would  be  so  nice  to  give  her  a  glimpse  of 
the  world." 

"  To  give  the  world  a  glimpse  of  her." 

"  I  suppose  she  could  have  a  gown  well 
enough.  There 's  my  white  crepe  and  that 
box  of  blue  forget-me-nots,  and  we  could 
have  that  Miss  Dreer  report  her  dress  - 

"  I  don't  believe  it  would  do.  You  see, 
she  couldn't  go  on  with  it." 

"  It  would  be  a  great  lark." 

"  Well,  anyway,  the  hair-dresser  has 
gone." 

"  So  she  has,"  said  Agnes,  ruefully,  sur 
veying  now  in  the  glass  the  towering  mass 
of  her  own  curls.  "  Well,  we  will  run  in 
and  ask  them  if  we  look  all  right." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  it  would  hurt  them." 

"Hurt  them!  That's  all  you  know  of 
human  nature,  Helene  Boynewater  ! " 

And  although  the  General's  voice  rose  in 
intermittent  peals  of  thunder,  they  ran  in, 
while  the  carriage  waited,  their  fans  in  their 
hands  and  their  cloaks  on  their  arms,  for 
Mrs.  Gilroy  to  tell  them  whether,  if  Helene 
wore  the  pearls  that  had  been  their  mother's, 
[58] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

Agnes  might  not  wear  the  little  diamond 
clasps. 

"  Young  ladies  used  n't  to  wear  diamonds 
in  my  day,"  said  Mrs.  Gilroy,  her  fingers 
twinkling  rapturously  in  and  out  of  the 
bows  and  puffs,  quite  in  her  element,  and 
feeling  as  if  she  were  going  into  society 
herself.  "  But  I  just  don't  know  what 
they  do  now,  honey." 

"  Well,  I  won't  wear  the  pearls,  either," 
said  Helene,  as  she  undid  them  and  tossed 
the  shining  string  on  the  lounge. 

"  Oh,  but  pearls  are  mighty  different ! 
Indeed,  indeedy ! "  said  Mrs.  Gilroy. 

"  They  may  stay  there,  may  n't  they,  Mrs. 
Gilroy,  till  I  come  for  them  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  m'am,  of  course.  And  you  11  be  the 
belles  of  the  ball,  with  them  or  without  them ! 
Two  such  sweet  girls  !  We  shall  read  about 
you  in  the  Star  to-morrow." 

And  then  the  gay  visions  of  snowy  tulle 
and  long  bright  ribbon-grasses  were  flashing 
down  the  rest  of  the  stairway,  and  the  pleas 
ant  voices  were  piping,  "  Yes,  yes,  papa,  here 
we  are ! " 

And  Mrs.  Gilroy,  staring  after  them  a 
[59] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

moment,  suddenly  recovered  herself,  as  if 
she  had  been  dropped  from  the  sky,  and 
shot  the  bolt  of  the  door,  and  turned  to 
Connie  with  an  indescribable  air  of  hope 
lessness,  holding  out  her  arms,  much  as 
the  loved  lady-in-waiting  might  to  a  young 
queen  deprived  of  her  queendom. 

"  Ma,  dear,"  said  Connie,  after  the  mo 
ment  in  which  she  stood  drooping  her 
lovely  head  over  her  mother's,  "  I  don't 
really  mind." 

Mrs.  Gilroy's  sigh  was  breathed  from  the 
very  source  of  tears.  To  be  debarred  by 
poverty  from  their  rights  ! 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  mind  at  all,"  said  Connie. 
"  What  does  it  signify,  ma,  dear,  so  long  as 
we  have  each  other  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  never  thought,"  suddenly  ex 
claimed  Mrs.  Gilroy  —  "  when  I  went  with 
your  pa  to  the  first  assembly,  and  the  Gov 
ernor  opened  the  ball  with  me,  and  every 
one  said  I  was  the  very  picture  of  a  bride  - 
and  he  was  on  his  way  up  here,  and  I  was 
right  glad  to  come  with  him,  and  I  stood 
with  the  White  House  ladies  in  the  receiv 
ing-line  —  I  had  a  rose-pink  taffeta  and  a 
[60] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

string  of  pearls  of  my  own,"  cried  Mrs. 
Gilroy,  forgetting  to  cry  for  a  moment. 
"  And  an  Admiral  was  your  godpapa,  and 
so  was  his  wife,  and  now  every  one  is  dead, 
or  gone  —  I  don't  know  where  it  is  they  're 
at  at  all "  —  with  fresh  tears.  "  I  try  —  I  try 
—  not  to  cry,  —  but  when  I  thought  you 
would  be  cared  for  like  a  drop  of  honey 
in  a  flower  — ' 

"  I  am,  ma,  dear,  I  am  !  You  're  so  good 
to  me  —  every  one  is,  —  and  Tolly 's  such  a 
blessing  1  Just  think  of  our  luck  in  finding 
Tolly,  and  having  this  place,  and  this  room  !  " 

"  Oh,  my  goodness  !  Our  luck  !  In  be 
ing  allowed  to  live  !  "  Then,  Mrs.  Gilroy 's 
thoughts  flashing  to  another  electric  point, 
66  And  those  dear  girls ! "  she  cried,  as  she 
wiped  her  eyes.  "  They  did  look  powerful 
pretty.  But,  oh,  Connie,  honey, '  gazing  at 
the  tall  fair  girl  and  twisting  the  pearls  in 
her  hand,  "  the  old  portrait  in  the  west  par 
lor —  that  is  what  you  would  be  in  pearls 
and  s  white  satin.  My  heart!  When  I 
saw  that  white  satin  skirheet  in  the  portrait 
ripped  up  with  Sherman's  bayonets,  I  felt  as 
if  it  was  my  own  gown  —  " 
[61] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

And  then  Connie's  harp  rang  out  the 
air  of  "  The  Young  Chevalier,"  and  Jack 
Knowles,  hearing  it  as  he  came  down  from 
his  upper  room,  could  make  up  his  mind  to 
follow  the  Boynewaters  only  because  he  had 
no  acquaintance  with  the  Gilroys. 

It  was  the  next  day,  after  office  hours, 
that,  just  as  Connie  in  her  blue  wrapper 
came  from  the  bath,  which  always  seemed 
to  her  a  necessary  antidote  to  the  atmos 
phere  of  the  day's  work,  Helene  and  Agnes 
rapped  again  at  the  low  door  on  the  landing. 
"  We  want  to  borrow  you,"  they  said  to 
Connie.  And  they  rustled  out  of  the  room 
with  her  before  she  could  gainsay  them,  and 
had  her  up  in  their  own  room,  buried  in  a 
big  towel,  with  Mademoiselle  Vide's  fingers 
twirling  the  pale  thick  strands  and  masses 
of  her  hair,  heaping  curl  over  curl  and 
braid  over  braid.  "  There  ! "  said  Helene, 
as  mademoiselle  gathered  her  paraphernalia 
and  disappeared.  "  One  must  take  Vide 
when  one  can  have  her.  She  came  in  the 
forenoon  once,  and  we  had  to  hold  our 
selves  just  so  all  day  long.  You  dear  won 
dering  dear,  you're  just  too  lovely  for 
[62] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

anything  J  An  old  French  picture  is  n't  a 
circumstance  to  you.  Now  —  you  won't 
mind  —  you  're  going  out  with  us,  and 
you  're  going  to  wear  this  white  crepe  —  ' 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  with  frightened  eyes. 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes  !  It  will  never  be  known 
—  there  are  such  dozens  of  crepes.  And 
we  Ve  wreathed  it  with  these  great  silk  cac 
tus  flowers  —  no  one  but  a  white  thing  like 
you  could  wear  the  scarlet  flames.  And  you 
shall  have  the  pearls  —  " 

"  Oh,  you  don't  understand.     I  can't !  " 

"  And  we  're  all  going  to  the  President's 
levee  with  papa.  We  thought  you  might 
object  to  going  to  Mrs.  Daingerfi eld's  or 
Mrs.  Dusenbury's  without  a  card,  but  the 
President's  house,  you  know,  is  your  house, 
and  you  Ve  a  right  to  go  there." 

"  Oh !  "  cried  Connie,  when  she  could  be 
heard.  "  It  never  would  do  in  the  world. 
You  don't  see  !  -  -  I  'm  only  a  girl  in  the 
Printing  Bureau  —  " 

"  You  're  our  company  to-night.  And 
I  guess  a  girl  in  the  Printing  Bureau  has 
her  rights  as  much  as  a  girl  in  the  White 
House." 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  But  I  don't  belong  -  -  I  could  n't  keep  it 
up.     Oh,  you  don't  know  how  kind  you  are 
-  how  I  should  like  to  go  !     B  ut  it  is  n't  to 
be  thought  of!" 

And  then  suddenly  Helene  and  Agnes 
rushed  down  for  Mrs.  Gilroy. 

"  Not  go  ? "  cried  Mrs.  Gilroy,  returning 
with  them,  her  thin  face  flushed  and  eager ; 
"  when  you  have  the  chance  ?  My  good 
ness  !  why  not  ? " 

"Oh,  I'm  not  fit,  ma." 

"  Constantia  Gilroy,"  said  her  mother, 
solemnly,  "  when  these  people  in  power 
were  pore  white  trash  your  pa  and  1  were 
drivin'  in  our  own  wag'n  up  to  the  White 
Sulphur,  and  livin'  in  one  of  the  cottages, 
and  drinkin'  the  waters,  and  hearin'  the 
band  music,  and  dancin'  every  night  with 
the  firheest  people  in  the  South.  Miss  Ver 
onica's  and  Miss  Sedley  Sidney's  father's 
cottage  was  next  to  it,  —  they  were  single 
ladies  then,  and  I  remember  they  used  to 
put  me  in  mind  of  silk  muslin  flowers,  but 
I  have  n't  had  the  heart  to  go  near  them, 
though  I  know  they  live  here  somewhere, 
and  —  " 

[64] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

"  But,  ma,"  said  Connie,  "  that  has  noth 
ing  to  do  with  it ! " 

"  Of  course  she  will  go,  Miss  Helene,  and 
be  glad  to  go.  And  you  are  two  dears. 
Yes,  it 's  a  mighty  heap  like  Cinderella  and 
two  fairy  godmothers ;  and  you  '11  be  home 
from  the  levee  before  twelve  o'clock,  any 
way." 

And  then  the  girls  ran  down  with  her 
and  Connie,  their  arms  full  of  the  things 
that  Connie  was  to  wear.  And  after  their 
spare  dinner  Mrs.  Gilroy  gave  each  article 
of  dress  an  inspection,  half  regretted  that 
Connie's  complexion  did  not  require  the 
offices  of  rouge  and  powder,  and  proceeded 
to  lace  the  girl  up  in  the  crepe  gown,  setting 
a  knee  against  her  back  and  pulling  might 
and  main. 

"Mai"  gasped  Connie.  "Ma!  I  can't 
breathe ! " 

"You've  just  gotter  breathe,  honey. 
There  !  you  '11  catch  on  presently.  You  Ve 
grown  right  slack,  wearin'  loose  dresses  so. 
Here,  Tolly,  you  help!" 

"  Laws  ter  gracious,  Miss  Jule ! "  said 
Tolly,  standing  off  at  last  and  surveying 
5  [  65  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

their  work.  "  Ef  she  ain'  de  bery  spit  er  de 
portrait  ob  ole  madame  dat  hang  in  de  wes' 
parlor  'foh  de  wah  !  " 

"  Oh,  Connie  Gilroy,"  cried  her  mother, 
as  she  wound  the  pearls  about  her  throat, 
"  what  a  beauty  you  are  !  " 

And  the  girl  would  not  have  been  a  girl, 
with  the  great  dazzling  fearsome  world  lying  . 
out  there  before  her,  if  she  had  not  blushed 
and  laughed  with  joy  and  excitement,  kiss 
ing  her  mother,  kissing  Tolly,  and  crying  to 
Mrs.  Gilroy,  "  Oh  I  wish  you  were  going 
too ! " 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  was  !  "  And  Mrs.  Gilroy 
and  Tolly  took  turns  at  the  crack  of  the 
door,  as  the  three  glad  young  things  plunged 
down  and  joined  the  little  General  where 
he  was  making  the  vestibule  vocal.  And 
Helene  cried  :  "  Oh,  Jack,  is  this  you  ?  Our 
cousin,  Mr.  Knowles,  Miss  Gilroy.  You  '11 
have  to  go  on  the  box,  Jack  1 "  And  of 
course  that  made  no  difference  to  Jack,  who, 
when  he  understood  that  he  was  in  the  com 
pany  of  this  heavenly  creature,  felt  as  if  he 
had  wings  on  his  own  shoulders  too. 

As  for  Connie,  she  was  in  a  trance.     She 
[66] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

had  nothing  to  say  to  any  one.  Her  wide- 
open  eyes  were  like  great  stars  in  the  mid 
night  blue  ;  her  cheeks  were  like  soft  sweet 
rose  leaves  in  the  sun  ;  her  mouth  trembled 
with  smiles ;  she  could  not  have  told  were 
she  in  the  body  or  out  of  it  when  the 
carriage  drove  tinder  the  porte  cochere,  and 
she  stepped  down,  and  the  lofty  officials 
slammed  the  door.  Then  the  doughty 
little  General's  broad  back  and  stout  elbows 
made  way  through  the  surging  mass  of  all 
sorts  and  conditions,  and  Jack's  towering 
shoulders  were  equally  effective  in  the  rear ; 
and  as  a  bird  might  suddenly  emerge  from 
crowded  ways  upon  clear  blue  space,  she 
was  defiling  before  the  President  and  a  line 
of  spangled  ladies ;  and  the  music  of  the 
Marine  Band  blew  out,  and  she  was  making 
on  Jack's  arm  the  endless  detour  of  a  vast 
room  that  seemed  to  her  unaccustomed 
eyes,  with  its  draperies,  its  panels,  its  wilder 
ness  of  mirrors,  the  splendor  dripping  from 
its  glittering  chandeliers,  like  a  dream  of 
kings'  palaces  —  quite  unaware  that  the 
glances  of  the  moving  throng  were  centring 
on  her  as  the  most  beautiful  thing  there  ; 
[07] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

quite  unaware  of  the  gloating  eyes  of  Sena 
tor  Bortle  —  big  watery  floating  eyes  like 
robins'  eggs  on  a  string  ;  equally  unaware 
of  the  little  dark  close-cropped  attache  who 
had  asked  Jack  to  present  him  —  Jack,  who 
was  a  clerk  in  the  State  Department,  and 
knew  most  of  the  younger  diplomats,  and 
held  them  in  angry  contempt,  and  had 
refused  the  request ! 

"  Hancock  is  back,  I  hear,"  exclaimed 
General  Boynewater,  when  they  crossed  his 
path,  proudly  taking  Connie  on  his  own 
arm.  "  We  are  going  over  to  Johnny's  to 
drink  his  health.  How  are  you,  Bentinck  ? 
Senator  MacMichaeFs  coming  ?  Meet  you 
later  at  the  Ormonds',  Jack."  And  in  the 
next  breath  Helene  and  Agnes  were  finding 
the  wraps,  and  they  were  walking  across 
Lafayette  Square,  leaving  word  for  the 
carriage  to  follow,  and  were  in  a  room 
where  a  dozen  men,  and  some  women  so 
wonderfully  clad  that  Connie  could  hardly 
believe  she  was  in  the  world  where  she 
breathed  every  day,  were  grouped  about  a 
mighty  gallant  blue-eyed  hero  just  back 
from  Indian-fighting,  their  hands  aching 
[681 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

from  his  grasp,  while  they  drank  his  health 
in  something  that  to  Connie  was  like  sun 
shine  and  fire  and  sweetness  and  fragrance 
all  foaming  together.  And  then  the  carriage 
door  had  slammed  again,  and  Connie,  still 
wordless,  and  almost  breathless,  was  whirl 
ing  away  to  the  Ormonds',  the  Boynewater 
girls  taking  the  responsibility,  and  as  de 
lighted  with  her  delight  as  if  they  had  made 
this  dazzling  world  of  after-dark  themselves. 
Connie,  who  had  heard  of  so  little,  had 
heard  of  fairyland  ;  and  she  experienced  a 
filmy  sensation  that  here  it  was,  as  she 
caught  the  tones  of  flute  and  violin,  and 
bent  her  lofty  head  under  the  palms  and 
long  banana  leaves,  saw  the  vine-clad  stair 
ways  where  shapes  of  loveliness  ascended 
and  descended,  the  tall  tripods  on  the  land 
ing  overflowing  with  burning  roses,  slabs 
bedded  with  violets,  and  mantels  and  door 
ways  streaming  with  ivies  and  scarlet  pas 
sion-flowers,  the  air  meanwhile  heavy  with 
the  breath  of  unseen  masses  of  heliotrope 
and  jasmine.  She  saw,  without  knowing 
that  she  saw,  the  soft  lustre  of  innumerable 
wax-lights  illumining  the  shimmer  of  silk 
[69] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

and  lace,  and  the  frosty  splendor  of  dia 
monds  that  seemed  more  alive  than  the 
beautiful  bosoms  beneath  them,  the  beauti 
ful  faces  above  them,  pouring  over  the 
glitter  of  uniforms  and  jewelled  orders,  over 
the  wild  flowing  of  the  dance  beyond. 
Then  presently  she  found  herself  in  the 
front  row  of  the  german,  two  chairs  having 
already  been  tied  together  there  by  Jack. 
She  was  taken  out  more  frequently  than,  on 
the  whole,  Jack  liked,  and  danced  like  glad 
wildfire,  till  she  glanced  up  to  meet  the 
bold  bleary  gaze  of  Senator  Bortle,  who 
leaned  against  a  doorway,  unconscious  of 
the  stain  of  Burgundy  he  wore.  Then  the 
instinct  of  repulsion  woke  her  from  her 
dream  and  made  her  only  a  living,  breathing 
statue,  and  ten  times  more  beautiful  to  Jack 
than  she  had  been  before. 

It  was  when  the  champagne  breakfast 
was  served  the  dancers  on  the  floor  that 
Senator  Bortle,  having  added  materially  to 
the  Burgundy  stains,  got  himself  presented 
to  her ;  and,  in  spite  of  Jack,  it  was  he  who 
put  her  into  the  carriage,  when,  just  before 
the  dawn,  they  all  rolled  home,  dishevelled 
[70] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

as  bacchantes,  weary  but  joyous.  And 
Mrs.  Gilroy  opened  her  door,  sleepy,  but 
joyous  too,  and  kissed  her  finger-tips  to  the 
Boynewaters,  and  drew  Connie  in,  and 
turned  up  the  gas,  and  looked  at  her  ecstati 
cally.  "  Oh  1  'd  like  to  have  Miss  Veronica 
Sidney  see  you  now  !  "  she  said.  "  Well,  it 's 
no  use  going  to  sleep  at  this  hour.  Tolly 
will  make  the  coffee  presently,  and  you  shall 
tell  me  all  about  it."  And  she  sat  like  one 
under  a  spell,  as  if  it  were  she  that  had  the 
dress  and  the  dance  and  the  triumph  and 
the  joy,  while  she  listened,  leaning  forward 
and  holding  her  tired  head  in  her  hands. 

Tolly  sprang  up  with  a  bewildered  start 
from  the  lounge,  where  her  massive  propor 
tions  had  been  reposing  in  deep  slumber. 
"  'Clar'  ter  goodness  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  she 
looked  at  Connie  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  in  the  still  unquenched  pleasure  of  her 
story.  "  Den  I  ain'  dead  an'  gone  ter  heben 
foh  sho' !  Dess  gwine  ter  say  p'intedly,  '  I 
don'  desarb  it  noways,  Mars'  Gabriel :  I  done 
stole  Miss  Jule's  pink  ribbin,  w'en  I  warn' 
dat  ar  high,  toobysho'!' — an'  I  seed  'twas 
yo',  honey.  Yasser,  sho 's  yo'  bawn,  hi-yi !  " 
[71] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Tolly  stayed  because  she  knew  I  was 
right  down  scared  alone  with  all  the  dogs 
barking  —  " 

"  An'  dese  yer  conterban's  all  ober  town 
a-tryin'  ter  git  a  man's  libin'  out'n  his 
mouf,"  said  Tolly.  "  But  dare  ain'  no 
more  'n  time  now,  1  spec  I  reckon,  foh  me 
ter  git  my  ole  man's  corn  bread  an'  bacon, 
an'  Abram  off  ter  his  schule.  Dare,  honey, 
yo'  neenter  be  s'prised  yo'  ole  Tolly  took 
yo'  foh  Gabriel  —  yo'  looks  lak  a  gret  but 
terfly  wid  his  wings  tore  down.  1  's  be 
cropin'  up  agin  bime-by,  Miss  Jule." 

"  No,  no,  mammy  dear,"  said  Connie. 
"  There  's  some  coffee  left  over.  You  run 
along.  And  when  our  ship  comes  home 
you  shall  have  a  silk  gown,  Tolly.  Good-by 
now.  And,  oh,  ma,"  still  going  on  with 
her  recital,  "  I  was  waltzing  down  the  room 
with  an  officer  —  oh,  not  a  young  man,  but 
so  gay,  so  kind,  so  pleasant,  ma !  And 
who  do  you  reckon  it  was  ?  You  'd  never 
dream  —  I  '11  have  to  tell  you  —  General 
Sherman ! " 

"  Sherman,  Connie  1  Sherman  !  "  almost 
shrieked  Mrs.  Gilroy,  clapping  her  hand  over 
[72] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

her  mouth.  "  Oh,  Connie  !  —  oh,  what  ever 
made  me  let  you  go  ?  Oh !  oh !  we  did 
wrong  ;  we  might  have  known  —  " 

"Ma,  I  just  think  you  believe  it  was  he 
with  his  own  bayonet  —  " 

"  Stabbed  the  old  portraits  ! " 

"  Ma,  dear,  you  're  an  unreconstructed 
rebel !  " 

"  Oh,  hush,  Connie,  hush  !  If  any  one 
heard  you  —  and  we  lost  our  place  —  " 

And  tired  out  with  pleasure  and  vica 
rious  pleasure,  they  both  began  to  cry,  and 
fell  asleep  at  last  in  each  other's  arms,  still 
crying,  and  only  awoke  to  find  that  Connie 
had  not  a  moment  to  lose  in  tearing  off  her 
finery  and  getting  into  her  black  alpaca  and 
hurrying  to  her  work. 

Mrs.  Gilroy  passed  the  day  shaking  and 
brushing  and  wiping  off  the  pretty  gown, 
pressing  the  crumpled  ribbons,  sewing  up 
here  and  there  a  rip,  smoothing  out  the 
silken  petals  of  the  cactus  flowers,  moist 
ening  them  with  a  little  quince- water,  and 
tying  them  into  shape  till  dry  ;  while  Tolly, 
who  came  up  after  lunch  to  talk  over  the 
report  of  victory,  spent  her  energy  with 
[73] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

bread  crumbs  on  the  gloves,  till  at  nightfall 
the  toilet  lay  almost  as  fresh  and  resplendent 
as  it  was  when  Connie  put  it  on. 

"Toh  de  Lawd,  Miss  Jule,"  said  Tolly, 
"we  won'  be  atter  keepin'  honey  fo'  long. 
Ef  her  pa  'd  done  lib  ter  seen  'er  las'  night 
yo  'd  'a'  hatter  whoop  'im,  sho',  de  po'  chile ! 
She  look  dess  de  way  a  rose  wid  de  dew  on 
it  is  bleedzed  ter  look." 

"  Oh,  Tolly,"  said  Mrs.  Gilroy,  resting  her 
head  on  the  kind  and  ample  bosom,  "  what 
a  comfort  you  are  !  " 

"  'Deed,  then,  Miss  Jule,  ole  miss  uster 
say  't  was  all  Toll  was  made  fo'.  Dare,  dare, 
now,  a  tired  lamb  - 

"  Oh,  the  day  you  met  up  with  me  in  the 
street  and  followed  me  in  here,  Tolly,  if 
you  'd  been  an  angel  from  heaven  the  sight 
of  you  would  n't  have  been  half  so  good  !  " 

"  'Clar'  ter  gracious  !  "  exclaimed  Tolly, 
chuckling  with  the  notion.  "  Wen  Tolly  's 
one  ob  dese  yer  angels,  Miss  Jule,  't  won'  be 
a  brack  one.  Mind  how,  w'en  her  pa  shot 
de  w'ite  herons,  liT  missy  cry  fo'  fear  lie 
done  shoot  de  angels?  Alwes  was  dess  so 
tender-hearted.  See  her  now,  I  kin,  wid 
[74] 


A    G u' A RDIAN    ANGEL 

her  tier  full  er  de  chick'ns  she  tuk  fum  de 
speckle  hen,  dat  tromple  an'  sot  onter  'em 
hebby  all  she  cud  do,  she  ses.  It  dess  maks 
me  die  er-laffin'  ter  'member  de  big  rooster 
dat  was  her  pet,  tappin'  ter  de  po'ch  slats  fo' 
her  ter  be  gwine  out.  'Deed  she  was  a 
sweet  lamb  !  I  was  tellin'  on'y  dis  yer  mornin' 
ob  de  time  she  done  stick  de  rain-lilies  all 
thoo  her  pooty  har,  so 's  ter  hab  it  lookin' 
like  dey  wuz  her  brack  mammy's  teenty  bar 
becue  braids.  She  dess  t'ought  her  mammy 
was  a  holy  show  dem  days,  sho  'nuff." 
And  Tolly  lingered  with  her  beguiling  remi 
niscences  till  Connie  opened  the  door  at 
length,  almost  too  tired  to  speak,  and  her 
old  mammy  put  her  to  bed  and  rubbed  the 
life  back  into  her. 

"  No,"  said  Connie,  the  next  day,  "  I  will 
take  the  things  back  now.  I  shall  not  go 
any  more.  You  see  yourself,  ma,  it  is  n't 
possible.  Miss  Helene  and  Miss  Agnes  can 
sleep  all  day.  I  must  be  off  at  work.  And 
it  is  no  use.  I  am  one  of  the  working  peo 
ple  now.  It  was  awfully  pleasant  —  but  — 
well,  I  reckon  I  Ve  seen  it  all,  anyway." 
And  in  spite  of  her  mother's  outcry  that  she 
[75] 


O  L  D    WASHINGTON 

was  throwing  away  her  chances,  that  she  was 
set  as  Chickamauga  Crag,  that  she  was  all 
Gilroy,  without  a  drop  of  Talliafero  in  her, 
Connie  took  back  the  white  crepe  and  the 
gloves  and  the  scarf  and  the  cloak  and  the 
flowers  and  all  the  rest. 

"  The  dear  dress ! "  said  her  mother,  lay 
ing  it  over  her  arms  and  tossing  back  her 
head  quickly,  that  the  falling  tear  might 
not  touch  it. 

"Oh,  when  you  were  going  to  be  such 
a  success ! "  cried  Helene,  as  Connie  sur 
rendered  the  pretty  armful.  "  And  we  had 
such  plans  and  invitations  for  you  ! " 

"  I  couldn't  accept  them,  you  know." 

"  And  the  Senator  !  "  said  Agnes. 

"  Oh,  he  does  n't  signify  !  " 

"  Papa  would  say  that  he  signifies  a  great 
deal ! "  said  Agnes. 

"  Miles  and  miles  of  lumber  forests  and 
coal  mines.  And  the  combustion  of  car 
bon  signifies  diamonds,"  said  Helene. 

And   that   night  the   Boynewaters  came 

up   without   cards    and   with    the    Senator. 

And  Mrs.  Gilroy  was  in  a  mild  alarm  and 

an   amiable  flutter,  Tolly   stepping   behind 

[76] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

the  curtain ;  but  the  ivory  nymph  that 
leaned  across  her  harp  was  not  more  cold 
and  irresponsive  than  Connie  was.  It  made 
no  difference,  however,  to  the  Senator. 
Archimedes  could  move  the  world  if  he 
had  a  place  whereon  to  stand,  and  the 
Senator  had  found  the  place. 

Things  that  had  for  so  long  been  mov 
ing  with  a  stagnant  flow  for  Connie  Gil- 
roy  had  suddenly  begun  to  rush.  She 
had  been  detained  about  her  work,  and 
having  gone  down  the  Avenue  on  an  er 
rand,  was  hurrying  home  in  the  dusk 
when  she  became  aware  of  a  measured 
step  behind  her,  hastening  when  she  did, 
and  overtaking  her ;  and  she  turned  her 
head  at  a  word  of  salutation  to  find  her 
self  addressed  by  the  little  dark  and  close- 
cropped  attache  with  whom  she  had  no 
acquaintance.  Without  a  second  glance 
she  quickened  her  steps,  presently  to  some 
thing  like  a  run,  as  the  fellow,  endeavoring 
to  speak,  kept  beside  her ;  and  reaching  the 
house  at  last,  she  flung  herself  into  the 
vestibule,  only  to  be  followed  by  him,  her 
shriek  of  excitement  and  panic  perhaps 
[77] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

adding  speed  to  the  movement  of  Jack 
Knowles,  then  just  sallying  forth. 

It  was  Jack's  moment.  He  burst  through 
the  door ;  saw  the  thing  at  a  glance.  "  It 
is  n't  the  first  time  !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  he 
caught  the  little  attache  by  the  collar  and 
tossed  him  out  on  the  sidewalk,  where  he 
pitched,  staggering,  across  the  bricks  and 
fell  among  the  cobblestones  of  the  gutter. 
He  was  found  there  by  the  police  shortly 
after,  and  the  newspapers  next  day  came 
near  making  an  international  incident  of  it, 
-  Miss  Celeste  Dreer's  report  of  it  in  the 
Graphic  being  remarkably  good  reading. 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Mrs.  Gilroy,  inspired  by 
that  one  of  her  ideas  which  troubled  her 
the  most,  as  Jack,  taking  his  chance  in 
both  hands,  came  in  with  Connie,  "you 
are  in  the  State  Department  —  he  will 
complain  —  and  you  will  lose  your  place." 

"No,  he  won't,"  said  Jack.  "If  he 
opens  his  mouth  he'll  lose  his  own  place, 
and  he  knows  it.  Oh,  I  hope  you  are 
better  now ! "  turning  to  the  breathless 
Connie. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  oppor- 
[78] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

tune  for  Mr.  Jack.  Of  course  he  had  to 
ask  in  the  morning  how  Miss  Connie  was, 
and  to  send  some  roses  before  him,  and 
to  come  in  the  evening  and  beg  to  see  for 
himself.  And  of  course  Connie  played  and 
sang  to  him  till  Senator  Bortle  tapped 
at  the  door ;  and  then  Mrs.  Gilroy  had  to 
tell  him  the  story,  and  Connie  had  to  grow 
as  still,  as  the  Senator  said  to  himself,  as 
frozen  peach  and  snow. 

Nevertheless  the  Senator  came  again, 
and  then  he  came  again ;  and  he  did  not 
know,  and  would  not  have  cared  if  he  had 
known,  that  Connie  dusted  the  room  every 
time  he  left  it.  The  people  in  the  house, 
except  the  one  or  two  who  knew  of  Jack's 
state  of  mind,  felt  as  if  all  the  Gilroy  diffi 
culties  had  come  to  an  end  ;  for  here  was 
there  not  a  senator  of  the  United  States  at 
their  command  ?  And  was  it  for  a  moment 
to  be  supposed  that  a  penniless  girl,  with  a 
penniless  mother,  dependent  on  capricious 
labor,  would  frown  upon  his  suit  ? 

Jack  supposed  it,  however  ;  but  in  the 
face  of  odds. 

"You  had  better  put  it  behind  you, 
[79] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Jack,"  said  General  Boynewater.  "  For 
you  see  yourself  what  are  a  clerk's  chances 
beside  a  senator's." 

"  Oh,  hang  a  senator's  !  "  muttered  Jack. 

"You  can't  hang  a  senator's.  Look 
at  it  rationally,  Jack.  There's  no  one- 
no  one  living,  short  of  the  Prime  Minister 
of  England  —  who  is  a  senator's  peer.  He 
is  the  representative  in  council  of  a  sovereign 
State.  The  State  may  be  small,  but  it  is 
an  independent  power,  and  he  is  its  accred 
ited  ambassador  to  the  world.  Here  in 
Washington  he  is  practically  omnipotent. 
If  he  wants  anything,  he  has  every  other 
senator  behind  him.  A  senator's  wife  takes 
precedence  of  the  wife  of  the  British  Minister. 
And  if  you  don't  know  what  that  means  to 
the  feminine  heart,  it 's  time  you  did  ! " 

"  I  deny  your  inference,"  said  Jack.  He 
was  sure  that  the  heavenly  simplicity  of 
Connie  Gilroy's  nature —  But  he  could 
not  utter  the  thought.  To  speak  her  name 
at  all  was  a  sort  of  profanity. 

"  And  then  the  man 's  a  millionnaire." 

And  there  Jack  groaned. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  in  a  moment,  as  the 
[80] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

General  gathered  up  the  reins.  "  There  is 
nothing  more  sordid  about  her  than  there 
is  about  a  drop  of  dew." 

"  Glad  you  think  so.  So  do  I.  But  we 
live  in  the  world,  and  money  is  simply  the 
blood  of  the  world.  Why,  even  a  squaw  in 
the  tepee  — " 

As  if  a  squaw  belonged  to  the  same 
creation  as  Connie  Gilroy ! 

"  Never  mind  about  the  squaw,"  said 
Jack. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  Senator?" 
said  the  little  General.  "  He 's  a  man  of 
power.  If  he  finds  living  perhaps  too  pleas 
ant —  well,  you  might  do  no  better  in  his 
place,  Jack.  If  you  really  care  for  the  girl, 
you  shouldn't  be  standing  in  her  light. 
You  have  nothing  in  the  world  but  that 
little  frame  house  on  the  M  Street  bank 
that  you  bought  for  the  rise  in  land. 
Stands  you  in  for  a  thousand,  maybe.  And 
he  —  he  can  give  her  the  luxury  of  princes. 
She  '11  be  just  as  happy  with  the  one  as 
with  the  other  after  a  couple  of  years,  say ; 
and  she  '11  be  a  great  deal  better  off  with  the 


one." 


[81] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  If  you  say  another  word,"  exclaimed 
Jack,  "  I  will  get  out  and  walk  home." 

"  Well,"  said  the  General,  "  your  legs  are 
long  enough,  and  your  ears,  too." 

But  in  spite  of  all  that  the  General  and 
the  rest  of  the  world  might  say,  Jack  knew 
where  Connie's  happiness  lay,  and  was  de 
termined  to  act  upon  his  knowledge.  The 
soft  spring  weather  with  its  high  white  light 
in  the  upper  sky  had  come,  the  slopes  of  the 
Capitol  grounds  were  purple  with  violets, 
and  out  of  town  the  orchards  were  clouds 
of  blush  and  fragrance.  One  day  the  Gen 
eral  took  a  party  down  to  Mount  Vernon. 
He  was  a  kindly  soul  and  he  asked  Celeste 
Dreer  and  the  other  young  ladies  in  the 
house,  with  Mrs.  McQueen's  two  step 
daughters,  Miss  Milly  and  Miss  Florry, 
much  the  finest  ladies  in  the  house,  to  come 
with  the  others.  He  had  asked  Jinny  Can- 
trail,  the  young  actress,  —  who  was  a  de 
lightful  mystery  and  surprise  to  Agnes  and 
Helene,  being  the  first  person  from  stage- 
land  they  had  ever  met,  —  but  she  had  a 
rehearsal. 

Connie  had  enjoyed  the  long  green  reaches, 
[82] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

and  the  lonely  desolation  of  the  shores,  and 
the  slow  wash  of  the  great  river,  the  distant 
crowing  of  the  cocks,  the  bay  of  some  great 
hound,  the  chirping  of  the  little  naked 
pickaninnies  on  the  water's  edge,  the  smoke 
of  their  father's  cabin  above.  As  she  stood 
on  the  spacious  piazza  and  strolled  over  the 
slope  where  the  hyacinths  were  springing  in 
the  grass,  she  felt  like  a  glad  child  the 
liberty  of  her  absence  from  office,  and  she 
ate  the  dainties  Helene  and  Agnes  were 
spreading  on  the  grass,  and  drank  from  the 
glass  Jack  brought  her,  with  an  irresponsi 
ble  sense  of  no  to-morrow.  Then  suddenly 
she  understood  it  was  Senator  Bortle's  pic 
nic,  as  he  joined  them,  and  she  rose  and 
strayed  off  into  the  garden. 

The  little  General  assisted  himself  labori 
ously  to  get  upon  his  feet  and  go  after  her. 
"  My  dear  child,"  said  he,  puffing  along  be 
side  her,  "  you  —  you  have  n't  any  father. 
And  you  must  let  me  say  that  you  —  really 
-you  are  not  treating  the  Senator  — 

"  Do  you   think   my  father  would   have 
liked    me   to  —  to  —  do    differently  ?  "   said 
Connie,  looking  down. 
[83] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"Assuredly!  assuredly!     The  Senator — " 

"  If  it  were  Miss  Helene  —  would  you  ? " 
said  Connie,  looking  up,  while  the  General 
felt  as  if  he  had  seen  a  blue  flash  like  that 
of  a  swallow's  wing. 

"Well,  I  —  that  is,  my  dear  —  it  alters 
the  case  ;  because,  you  see  — " 

"  Yes  ? "  said  Connie  softly  then. 

"  She 's  as  dense  as  a  Cheshire  cheese," 
said  the  General  afterward.  But  perhaps 
the  reason  the  conversation  was  not  con 
tinued  was  that  Agnes,  looking  after  them, 
with  a  strange  light  opening  her  eyes,  had 
sent  her  cousin  Jack  to  make  a  third.  And 
presently  the  little  General  returned,  routed, 
to  finish  the  claret  with  the  Senator  at  the 
lunch  hamper  —  the  Senator,  who  was  plac 
ing  his  reliance  on  a  coup  yet  to  be  played 
-  and  Jack  and  Connie  had  a  half  hour  in 
heaven  as  they  wandered  along  the  alleys  of 
the  old  gardens  and  between  the  hedges 
breast  high  with  spicy  box.  When  they 
came  down  to  the  boat,  and  paused  a 
moment  where  some  little  lads,  to  please 
their  elders,  were  making  a  sport  of  patriot 
ism  and  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance  at  the 
[84] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

tomb,  "It  is  not  the  only  oath  of  allegiance 
taken  to-day,  as  I  'm  a  sinner  ! "  whispered 
Miss  Helene  to  her  sister.  And  all  the  way 
up  the  river  Connie  sat  in  such  a  stupor  of 
joy  that  she  did  not  even  know  the  Senator 
sat  beside  her,  nodding  sleepily  after  his 
libations  to  the  evil  gods. 

The  great  legislator  was,  however,  quite 
wide  awake  by  the  time  they  reached  the 
wharf,  and  was  in  a  gay  and  bantering  mood 
as  they  trundled  along  homeward  ;  and  when 
they  reached  a  candy  shop  he  must  have 
them  all  out  for  bonbons  ;  and  then,  strolling 
along  the  Avenue,  he  was  presently  stopping 
at  a  jewelry  window,  where  Connie  found 
herself  half  pushed  through  the  doorway  by 
those  behind  her.  "  For,"  silently  and  con 
sentaneously  reasoned  his  cousins  after  all, 
"  this  is  a  poor  outlook  for  Jack,  and  for  her 
too.  And  if  she  should  see  what  it  is  the 
Senator  can  do  for  her  —  "  And  there  was 
the  Senator  displaying  the  treasures  that  had 
been  sent  over  from  New  York  for  his  in 
spection,  and  Connie  would  have  been  more 
than  woman  and  less  than  human  could 
she  have  hindered  a  cry  of  delight  at  their 
[85] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

beauty,  especially  with  all  the  others  exclaim 
ing  too,  and  her  mother,  dark  and  flushed 
and  longing,  with  eager  eyes  beside  her. 

For  the  Senator  held  up  a  huge  opal 
carved  with  a  Flying  Mercury,  looking  like 
the  sky  out  of  which  the  god  might  break 
on  any  of  these  radiant  fogs  where  the  sun 
dissolved  the  vapors  over  the  Potomac.  The 
thin  and  sallow  hand  that  flashed  towards  it 
and  then  away  was  not  Connie's.  Nor  did 
she  put  out  her  hand  when  he  lifted  a  pen 
dant  of  pearls,  blue  and  blush  and  black  and 
bronze,  and  milky  ones  lustrous  as  white  fire. 
Then,  as  Connie  would  have  drawn  back  be 
hind  Miss  Helene,  who  was  critically  exam 
ining  an  Indian  bangle,  this  purchaser  in 
the  slave  market  balanced  before  her  eyes 
a  huge  barbaric  butterfly,  whose  wings  were 
laminse  of  tourmaline,  deep  crimson  at  the 
core,  melting  out  to  palest  rose,  and  that 
shading  into  delicatest  green  and  down  to 
blackness,  the  body  a  precious  cat's  eye,  the 
antennae  of  tiny  sparks.  But  Connie  still 
said  nothing  ;  the  exclamations  of  the  others 
perhaps  covered  her  silence.  Her  mother's 
hollow  whispers  were  like  a  moan.  He  took 
[86] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

up  a  circlet  of  loose-swinging  rubies,  from 
whose  centre  hung  a  twilight-blue  aquama 
rine  of  strange  tinct  and  cut. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Miss  Agnes,  turning  to  see 
if  her  sister  saw,  "  how  unspeakably  gor 
geous  ! "  while  Mrs.  Gilroy's  eyes  implored 
the  General's  help. 

"  It  is  yours,"  murmured  the  Senator  to 
Connie,  taking  his  opportunity.  "Any  of 
them  —  all  of  them  —  all  yours  if  you  will." 

"  No,  no,  no  ;  oh  no  !  "  answered  Connie, 
in  the  same  tone.  "  I  do  not  accept 
gifts." 

"  Ah,  I  see  !  "  he  said  then.  "  Nothing 
will  do  but  diamonds.  Well  —  and  these 
are  no  common  stones."  And  he  took  from 
an  inner  pocket  of  the  casket  a  pair  of  unset 
diamonds  that  the  jeweller  planted  in  the 
long  pincers  over  the  black  velvet.  They 
were  the  size,  perhaps,  of  a  hazelnut,  and 
blue  as  the  sky  itself,  and  splendid  as  the 
blue  sky  poured  full  of  sunshine.  "  They 
were  a  queen's  once,"  murmured  the  Senator 
again,  Helene  and  Agnes  busy  with  a  second 
bangle.  "  They  shall  be  another  queen's. 
My  wife  shall  wear  them  ;  and  they  will  not 
[87] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

match   the   blueness  and  the  glory  of  her 
eyes." 

"  I  hope  they  will  be  becoming  to  her," 
said  Connie,  turning  to  leave  the  place. 
"  Come,  ma,  dear  "  —  Jack,  who  had  waited 
in  the  doorway,  joining  her  as  she  went 
along,  her  mother  lingering  and  looking  back 
and  slowly  following,  as  though  each  step 
gave  pain. 

"  That  settles  it,  I  fancy,"  whispered 
Celeste  to  Miss  Agnes.  "  Connie  can't  be 
bought.  But  I  'm  sorry  for  Jack  by-and- 
by.  She  will  always  remember  those  blue 
diamonds." 

It  seemed  to  have  settled  it  indeed.  And 
that  night,  after  Jack  had  gone  up  to  his 
own  room,  remembering  this  scene,  but  still 
more  vividly  remembering  Connie  as  she  sat 
playing  on  her  harp  in  the  low  room,  her 
hands  lying  like  live  white  flowers  on  the 
muted  strings,  remembering  the  last  mo 
ment  ere  they  said  good-night  -  -  Tolly,  with 
nods  and  becks  and  wreathed  smiles,  having 
called  Mrs.  Gilroy  behind  the  curtain  —  he 
hardly  knew  were  he  sleeping  or  waking. 
So  deep  and  so  glad  was  his  dream  that  it 
[88] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

seemed  scarcely  more  real  than  the  dream 
into  which  he  slipped. 

The  gladness  of  the  dream  still  wrapped 
the  lovers  even  after  the  Boynewaters  — 
fearing  the  warmer  weather,  and  the  Gen 
eral,  having  finished  his  business  with  the 
Secretary -- had  left  town,  although  with 
urgent  invitation  to  the  Gilroys,  and  the 
Senator  had  come  up  and  taken  a  part  of 
their  rooms. 

«  Wha  's  he  dar  foh  ? "  said  Tolly,  when 
she  brought  home  the  clothes.  "  Co'tin' 
our  Miss  Connie  wid  his  low-down  imper- 
ence  —  ornery  w'ite  trash  !  He  t'ink  Miss 
Connie  look  at  him  wid  one  eye  shet  ? 
Skasely." 

"  Oh,  Tolly,  he  has  such  a  heap  of  money!  " 
sighed  Mrs.  Gilroy.  "  She  'd  be  at  the  very 
top  of  everything." 

"  She 's  top  er  t'ings  now,  honey,  Miss 
Connie  is.  Wha 's  his  money  wuff? "  as  she 
let  down  Mrs.  Gilroy 's  hair  and  began  brush 
ing  out  its  length.  "  I  spec'  Mars'  Jack  '11 
git  her  all  she  done  wants,  and  nobody 
neenter  wants  more  'n  dey  wants.  Go  long 
wid  yer  Mars'  Senator ! "  said  Tolly,  whis- 
[89] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

tling  millions  down  the  wind  as  if  a  cabin 
over  in  the  Liberties  were  enough  for  human 
happiness.  "  Dare,  now,  chile,  Mars'  Jack  '11 
be  right  smart  ob  a  comfort  to  yo'  yit.  Dess 
t'row  dat  worry  off 'n  yo'  ter  Mars'  Jack  an 
de  Lawd,  an'  let  ole  Tolly  comb  yo'  pooty 
haV  out  twell  yo'  gits  ter  sleep.  Yo's  on'y 
mammy's  baby  yo'se'f,  po'  deah." 

Everywhere  now  the  sunbeams  showered 
down  fervently,  and  the  clouds  of  the  Capi 
tol  dome  rose  from  under- clouds  of  greenery, 
and  where  the  river  wound,  its  steep  south 
bank  was  green  as  virgin  forest.  Sometimes, 
after  office  hours,  Jack  took  Connie  out  in 
his  skiff,  the  shells  of  the  Analostans  and 
the  Potomacs  sweeping  by ;  and  they  lin 
gered  in  the  open  water  above  the  Three 
Sisters  till  sunset  painted  the  stream  and 
made  it  seem  as  if  they  floated  in  mid- 
heaven.  Or  they  waited  till  the  moonlight 
wrapped  them,  they  two  alone,  in  silvery 
space.  Sometimes  Jack  brought  round 
horses,  and  they  were  off  down  Rock  Creek 
way,  where  the  dogwood  boughs  stretched 
white  level  floors  of  bloom  aloft  through  the 
forest ;  and  they  forded  the  stream  and  came 
[90] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

in  over  the  Heights,  past  gardens  that  seemed 
in  the  soft  dark  a  wilderness  of  flower  and 
fragrance.  Or  they  were  up  by  sunrise  and 
riding  out  on  the  Maryland  hill  roads,  where, 
far  away,  the  city  with  its  rosy  colors  lay  be 
low  them  in  the  quivering  light,  like  the 
dream  of  some  flower-set  place  of  columned 
corridors  and  temples.  Or  they  galloped 
across  to  Arlington,  as  people  had  been 
wont  in  the  former  times,  with  the  dew  on 
the  grass,  and  looked  back  on  the  dome 
across  the  river  and  wondered  concerning 
the  pleasant  old  days  with  morning  guests 
to  breakfast  there,  and  all  the  gayety  that 
had  gone  down  under  the  billows  of  death 
that  seemed  to  roll  and  break  visibly  here 
in  the  long  cresting  lines  of  headstones, 
and  that  gave  their  joy  the  dash  of  sadness 
which  makes  a  saving  shadow.  And  they 
went  out  in  the  warm  evenings,  after  the 
roses  began  to  intoxicate  the  air  —  the  great 
crimson-black  roses,  the  pale  blush,  the  spot 
less  snowy  ones  —  and  strolled  in  the  blos- 
somy  squares,  or  sat  in  the  soft  shadows  till 
the  caged  mocking-birds  hanging  outside  the 
windows  began  their  wild  sweet  music. 
[91] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

But  not  in  all  this  time  did  the  Senator 
forget  his  pursuit.  Flowers  were  almost 
daily  sent  to  the  Gilroy  door ;  and  the  hint 
was  not  taken  when  no  thanks  were  returned, 
nor  when  finally  they  were  left  to  perish  out 
side.  Little  pasteboard  boxes  of  sherbet 
were  brought  there  and  declined,  and  large, 
long  glasses  bristling  with  straws  and  green 
stems  of  mint,  rich  with  berry  or  cherry  and 
the  sparkle  of  ice,  and  creaming  with  the  cor 
dial  julep.  It  is  a  shame  to  have  to  say  that 
once  Tolly,  being  there,  took  such  a  glass  from 
the  messenger's  hand  and  imbibed  its  juices 
herself,  with  much  happy  rolling  of  her  great 
tender  eyes  and  unctuous  smacking  of  her 
lips.  "  Tell  yo'  mas'r,"  she  said  to  the  boy, 
"  he 's  a  Chrissen  gen'  1  'man." 

Occasionally  the  Senator  ascended  the 
half  flight  and  took  a  long  breath  and 
knocked.  It  occurred  once  to  Mrs.  Gilroy, 
as  she  opened  the  door  herself,  to  say  that 
they  were  not  at  home  ;  but  she  had  not  the 
quality ;  and  she  admitted  him  as  belonged 
to  Southern  hospitality,  and  treated  him  be 
comingly,  and  would  have  Connie  play  at 
his  request,  cold  enough  although  Connie 
[92] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

was  to  chill  the  hottest  fervor  ;  and  the  Sen 
ator  felt  as  if  at  last  he  had  laid  hand  on 
his  hope,  and  he  renewed  his  proposal,  only 
to  receive  the  same  reply  as  on  previous 
occasion. 

It  was  the  long  session  of  Congress.  The 
Senator  in  his  seersucker  clothes,  and  with 
his  large  light  umbrella  and  palm-leaf  fan, 
made  himself  as  comfortable  as  he  could, 
although  his  rubicund  countenance  beaded 
with  warm  drops  told  of  but  ill  success.  In 
the  evenings,  as  he  took  his  chair  and  sat  out 
with  Celeste  Dreer  and  the  young  actress, 
Virginia  Cantrell,  and  some  other  of  the 
various  lodgers  and  boarders,  on  the  broad 
sidewalk,  one  must  endure  his  society  or 
go  into  the  house  that  was  something  like 
an  oven  after  the  fire  has  been  drawn  a  little 
while. 

It  would  have  been  unpleasant  to  any  one 
less  simple  minded  than  Connie  to  come 
wandering  home  with  Jack  and  to  encounter 
the  company  sitting  with  the  Senator  and 
his  fan,  and  for  whom  he  had  usually  ordered 
up  ices  from  the  confectioner's  on  the  Ave 
nue.  The  ices  were  no  temptation  to  Con- 
[93] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

nie  going  quietly  by.  But  the  beggar 
begging  for  his  drop  of  water  hardly  longed 
with  more  longing  than  Mrs.  Gilroy  had  in 
knowledge  of  those  ices  out  there,  she  suffer 
ing  within,  remembering  with  a  pang  the 
proposal  for  Connie's  hand  that  had  first 
come  to  her  through  the  General,  angry 
that  Connie  could  not  have  found  the  Sena 
tor  to  her  mind,  and  then  despising  herself 
as  she  recalled  the  moist  mountain  of  flesh 
and  contrasted  it  with  the  half-heroic  air  of 
a  person  tall  and  straight  and  dark  and  spare 
and  tender.  All  the  same,  the  anger  would 
recur  when  in  the  late  afternoons,  if  she 
chanced  to  be  in  the  front  of  the  house,  she 
saw  Gloria  Campeador,  and  other  as  fine 
ladies,  in  their  open  carriages,  with  their  gay 
parasols,  driving  by  to  Harewood  and  the 
Soldiers'  Home,  or  out  to  Fort  Whipple, 
and  knew  they  were  cooled  by  the  breeze 
of  their  own  motion,  and  knew  they  would 
drive  down  in  the  delicious  dark  over  the 
Long  Bridge  and  the  water,  or  by  the  K 
Street  market,  with  the  torches  flaring  over 
the  heads  of  the  mules  and  the  colored 
people,  emerging  out  of  blackness,  over  piles 
194] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

of  crisp  vegetables  and  berries  and  the  boughs 
of  blossoms  there,  and  felt  herself  withering 
with  heat,  and  thought  of  Connie  at  the 
sweltering  work  of  the  Printing  Bureau. 
But  the  moment  she  heard  Jack's  proud 
step  come  ringing  into  the  hall,  all  her  faint 
heart  went  out  in  loyalty  to  him,  and  she 
said  she  would  die  of  the  heat  and  thirst 
before  she  would  let  Jack  have  a  sorrow. 
And  then  she  used  to  say  to  Tolly  that  she 
really  did  n't  know  whether  she  or  Connie 
was  the  most  in  love  with  Jack. 

But  one  day  Mrs.  Gilroy  made  a  fatal 
mistake.  The  Senator  had  called  before 
Connie's  return  from  office,  and  had  spoken 
again  of  his  wishes  and  purposes  in  regard 
to  her. 

"  It  seems  right  unkind,"  said  Mrs.  Gil 
roy,  "  here  in  my  own  room,  but  you  just 
ought  to  have  more  sense,  Colonel.  Down 
in  my  country  we  don't  speak  of  such  things 
till  the  bride-cake  's  baked,  but  when  my 
daughter  marries,  anyway,  it  will  be  Mr. 
Knowles  that  stands  up  with  her." 

"  I  can't  credit  it ! "  puffed  the  Senator. 
"I  —  I  ought  to  forbid  the  banns  !  A 
[95] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Department  clerk,  who  can  have  nothing 
-that  superb  creature,  who  should  ride  in 
her  carriage  and  wear  her  cashmeres  - 

"  Not  in  dis  yer  wedder,"  murmured 
Tolly,  behind  the  curtain. 

"  Oh,  I  know  it,  I  know  it ! "  said  Mrs. 
Gilroy.  "  And  if  her  pa  had  only  lived  - 

"  But,  you  see,  he  did  n't,"  said  the  Sen 
ator,  softly.  "And  when  I  think  there 
is  n't  a  princess  in  Europe  could  look  as  she 
would  in  a  coronet  of  old-mine  stones,  and 
that  I  could  give  it  to  her  - 

"  I  wish  you  could  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gilroy. 

The  Senator  sat  a  little  while,  leaning 
forward  with  one  elbow  on  his  knee,  and 
forgetting  to  fan  himself  and  to  wonder  how 
any  one  existed  in  that  superheated  room. 
When  he  looked  up  there  was  an  unusual 
brightness  in  his  watery  eye.  "  I  sha'n't 
take  this  as  final,"  said  he.  "I  Ve  wanted  a 
good  many  things  in  my  life,  and  I  Ve 
always  got  them.  Perhaps  she  '11  listen  to 
reason  by  and  by."  He  paused  a  moment. 
"It's  for  her  own  good,"  he  said. 

"  Toobysho ' !  "  murmured  Tolly. 

"At  any  rate,  Mrs.  Gilroy,  if  you  ever 
[96] 


A   GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

find  yourself  in  need  of  a  friend,  you'll 
know  where  to  look  for  him." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  always  in  powerful  need,"  cried 
Mrs.  Gilroy. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Senator. 

It  wTas  the  next  afternoon  that  Connie 
came  home  with  a  weary  step  and  an  ashen 
face.  The  great  heat  was  beginning  to  tell 
upon  her  ;  but  this  pallor  was  born  of  more 
than  the  heat.  The  head  of  her  division  had 
told  her  that  her  services  were  no  longer  re 
quired.  Another  person  with  more  influence 
had  her  place. 

But  before  Mrs.  Gilroy  had  time  to  realize 
the  blow,  in  the  materialization  of  her  most 
haunting  idea,  Jack  had  followed.  And 
when  Tolly,  as  she  went  home,  passed  the 
Senator  at  the  door  out  of  which  she  some 
times  chose  to  go  rather  than  by  the  alley 
way,  bursting  with  pride  and  joy  she  could 
not  contain  herself;  and  looking  down  at 
him  from  the  corners  of  her  big  dancing 
eyes,  as  she  balanced  her  basket  of  clothes 
on  her  head,  she  went  along  muttering : 
"  Lawd-a-mussy  !  'Mos  '  allus  ginerly  folks 
burns  dare  fingers  meddlin'.  Dess  natally 
7  [97] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

hurries  up  de  cakes.  De  sun  'ain'  done 
shine  on  a  w'iter  bride  'n  my  Miss  Connie 
gwine  be  nex'  week  comin',  'cept  Miss  Jule 
herse'f  was,  foh  sho' !  " 

Perhaps  the  Senator's  next  interference 
was  more  to  the  purpose.  For  when  Jack 
went  to  his  desk,  a  morning  or  two  later, 
there  lay  the  dreadful  yellow  envelope. 
For  a  moment  the  handsome  head  that 
Connie  loved  went  down  upon  the  desk. 
What  in  the  world  was  there  to  do  ?  Now 
everything  was  impossible. 

His  chief  had  no  help  for  him.  He,  an 
employd  of  the  State  Department,  had  as 
saulted  a  member  of  the  diplomatic  body 
-the  little  attache,  of  whose  punishment 
the  Boynewaters  and  the  Senator  had  so 
laughingly  and  indignantly  approved.  After 
such  action,  which  had  just  been  reported, 
and  which  had  been  fully  related  in  a 
Graphic  letter  of  the  time,  it  was  idle  to 
hope  to  be  reinstated. 

And  the  life  of  the  office  had  unfitted  him 

for   everything   else.      And   if  it   had   not, 

what  was  there  to  which  he  could  turn  his 

hand  in  a  hurry  ?     What  that  would  stand 

[98]      • 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

in  this  gap  of  life  and  death  for  Connie 
and  her  mother  ?  The  sale  of  the  little  M 
Street  site  and  shanty  could  cover  only  the 
present  needs.  He  saw  himself,  down  a 
sudden  vista,  hanging  on  the  hope  of  another 
place  when  the  Senator  should  be  snowed 
under,  down  at  heel,  borrowing  money,  liv 
ing  from  hand  to  mouth.  He  would  be 
better  going  out  and  taking  up  a  quarter- 
section.  But  what  was  Connie  for  a  rough 
life  and  the  battle  with  the  wilderness  ? 
And  give  up  Connie,  his  dear  girl,  his  white 
innocent  —  and  the  day  of  their  wedding 
named  —  ah,  never  !  And  he  walked  the 
morning  long  in  the  sultry  heat,  slow  and 
laggingly  after  a  time,  and  fell  prostrate  on 
the  lounge  in  the  low,  dim  room  at  last, 
insensible  from  sunstroke. 

"Oh,  Tolly,  Tolly!"  cried  Mrs.  Gilroy, 
wringing  her  helpless  hands  when  Tolly 
came  in  that  night.  "  What,  what  is  to 
become  of  us  ?  We  Ve  lost  our  place  !  And 
so  has  your  Master  Jack  !  And  not  a  pica 
yune  to  cross  ourselves  with  !  " 

"  Prince  er  darkness  !  Dat  's  bad  news 
foh  sho' !  "  said  Tolly.  "  Huh  !  An'  I  'am 
[99] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

brung  my  t'inkin'-cap  erlong.  Dat  look 
jubus." 

"  And  we  shall  starve  to  death,  Tolly ! " 

"  Sho',  now,  honey  ! " 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  Ve  either  to  beg  or  starve, 
and  it 's  a  heap  sight  easier  to  starve  ! " 

"  Sho',  sho,'  now,  honey !  I  'ain'  no  pa 
tience  wid  yo',  Miss  Jule.  Gilroys  talkin' 
'bout  starbin' !  Who  said  dat  ar,"  cried 
Tolly,  fiercely,  taking  off  her  bandanna  and 
tying  it  in  a  more  defiant  topknot  than 
before,  "  bout  de  seed  ob  de  righteous  ? 
Yo'  ain'  gwine  be  fo'saken,  Miss  Jule,  wid 
dese  yer  han's  in  de  worl' ! " 

"  Oh,  my  poor  Tolly ! "  sobbed  Mrs. 
Gilroy. 

"  Tellin'  'bout  picayunes,"  exclaimed  Tolly, 
"  dar  's  a  right  smart  ob  'em  in  de  box  wid 
my  ole  man's  razor." 

"  Oh,  Tolly,  Tolly,  what  of  it  ? " 

"  W'at  ob  it  ?      W'y  dey  's  yo's.     I  sesso." 

"  Tolly  dear !  You  know  T  can't  take 
your  money." 

"  My  money,  Miss  Jule  ?  Well,  now,  I 
likes  dat.  My  money !  W'y,  Miss  Jule ! 
Honey ! "  urged  Tolly,  with  the  silkiest 
[100] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

persuasion  in  her  voice.  "  Don'  I  long  ter 
yo'  ?  Ain'  de  bery  brefF  in  my  body  yo's  ? 
Ain'  I,  an'  my  chilluns,  an'  eberyt'ing  I  'se 
got,  yo's  ?  Yo'  don'  spec'  yo'  reckon  any- 
t'ing  dis  yer  mis'able  no-account  No'then 
gub'ment  says  make  any  diff'unce  in  t'ings 
as  dey  really  be  ?  Dese  yer  fractitious  Yan 
kee  laws,  dey  can't  make  brack  w'ite.  An' 
I  'se  brack,  an'  yo'  sarbunt,  an'  yo'  prop'ty, 
an'  de  wuk  ob  yo'  ban's !  I  longs  ter  yo', 
Miss  Jule,  honey  !  "  said  Tolly,  sitting  down 
beside  Miss  Jule  and  holding  out  both  her 
poor  hands,  with  the  rosy  palms  upward,  as 
if  to  put  on  the  old  fetters. 

"Oh,  Tolly,  Tolly!"  cried  Mrs.  Gilroy, 
her  arms  round  Tolly's  neck  and  her  head 
upon  the  comfortable  bosom.  "  We  have  n't 
a  friend  in  the  world  but  you  ! " 

"  An'  dat  's  a  plenty  !  "  said  Tolly.  "  Yo' 
dess  keep  de  ice  on  Mars'  Jack's  head  —  de 
po'  suff'rin'  martyr  dis  yer  'diclous  ornery 
Pruridun'  done  mak  ob  'im,  —  an'  Tolly  11 
do  de  res',  atter  a  w'ile.  Yo'  neenter  be 
cast  down  dat  a-way,  lil  missy.  I  spec' 
dar's  folkses  in  de  worl'  wusser  off  'n  yo' 
is.  Yo'  dess  watch  out  twell  yo'  see  our 
[101] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Miss  Connie  hole  up  her  head  wid  de 
swimmyess  set  ob  dem  all,  an'  axin'  howdy 
ter  de  Queen  ob  France  like  she  was  an'er 
queen  herse'f,  hi-yi !  " 

The  smoke  was  curling  busily  out  of 
the  chimney  of  the  cabin  over  on  the 
island  next  day ;  and  the  appetizing  odors 
that  poured  through  the  door  were  con 
tinually  bringing  from  his  play  a  little 
colored  boy,  whose  sole  garment  was  a 
pair  of  trousers  buttoned  round  the  neck. 

"  Now,  Abram  Linkum  Tollifer,"  cried 
Tolly,  her  face  glittering  with  perspiration 
and  joy,  "yo's  done  hab  all  de  mush  an' 
milk  yo'  could  carry  dis  yer  breathin' 
mornin'.  An'  yo'  gwine  ter  hab  'taters 
an'  pepper  an'  po'k-fat  foh  dinner;  an'  yo' 
ain't  ter  say  a  word  ter  yo'  pa  w'en  he  come 
fum  wuk,  'bout  dis  an'  all.  Ef  yo'  does, 
I  dess  lam  yo'  twell  yo'  drap.  Now  yo' 
hear  me  ?  An'  I  put  yo'  ter  bade  an'  call 
de  bogy  ter  sot  by  !  But  good  li'l  boys 
has  dare  molasseses  biled  wid  fat  ter  dip 
dare  hoe-cake  inter,  toobysho'.  Yo'  sees, 
sonny,"  she  said,  in  the  more  amicable 
[102] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

tone,  as  she  carefully  laid  the  viands  in  a 
basket,  while  Abram's  mouth  watered  and 
his  great  eyes  rolled  mightily  in  his  little 
serious  face,  "up  dar  ter  Miss  Jule's  — 
't  ain'  lak  dey  was  hungry  or  did  'n'  hab  de 
fat  ob  de  Ian 'ter  lib  on.  Lawd-a-mussy, 
dey  hes  poun'-cake  fried  foh  brekfuss,  an' 
birheds  up,  dressed,  fum  Andy  Hancock's, 
an'  ice-creams  th'ee  times  ebery  day  ob  dare 
libes.  An'  de  roas'  'possums  layin'  roun'  de 
carbin'-tables  dare  -  -  'tain'  no  use  talkin' ! " 

"I  di'  n't  see  none  w'en  I  was  dare,"  re 
marked  Abram,  wistfully. 

"  Yo'  was  tuk  up.  Yo'  seed  Miss  Jule, 
an'  Miss  Connie,  de  w'ite  flower.  An'  yo' 
knowed  yo'  mammy  useter  long  ter  dem 
'foh  she  longed  ter  herse'f— " 

"  Yo'  don'  now,"  said  Abram,  edging 
nearer  to  the  sweet- cakes. 

"  No.  We 's  free  niggers  now,  bress  de 
Lawd !  An'  yo 's  gwine  ter  go  ter  schule 
an'  grow  up  a  man,  an'  —  Take  dat ! " 
that  being  a  sounding  slap  on  poor  Abram's 
little  fat,  peculating  fingers.  "  Now  yo'  dess 
roar  out  yo'  roar  ! "  and  she  went  on  with 
her  packing. 

[103] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  I  don'  bleeb  dey  hes  de  possums/* 
whimpered  Abram,  presently. 

"  Co'se  dey  does.  Ain'  dey  w'ite  quality  ? 
An'  don'  de  worl',  'possums  an'  all,  'long  ter 
de  w'ite  quality  ?  " 

"  I  years  pa  done  tell  'bout  de  'possums 
down  in  Georgy,  an'  dey  'mos'  allus  gin- 
erly  'longed  ter  cullud  pussons." 

"  Well,  —  mebbe  dey  war'n'  'possums,  den. 
Dey  was  li'l  roas'  suckin'  pigs,  sho'  nuff ;  dat 
was  w'at  dey  was,  now  I  minds  agin.  But 
I  warn'  dem  folkses  up  dar  ter  see  us  po' 
cullud  pussons  hes  some  t'ings  down  yere 
dess  well  es  yuthers,  'kaze  I  hes  ter  keep  up 
de  credit  ob  yo'  pa's  fam'ly.  An'  so  I  'se 
totin'  up  dis  yer  frie'  chicken  an'  Merrylan' 
biscuit  an'  lemon  cakes ;  an'  some  day  I  'se 
gwine  tote  up  a  piece  er  watermillyun,  des 
ter  let  'em  see  we  hes  watermillyun  down 
yere  ter  set  our  teef  in.  Yere,  now,  Abram 
-  it 's  mammy's  sonny,  sho  'nuff !  Yo'  un- 
nerstan',  I  dess  hatter  do  it !  An'  dar 's  de 
pan,  an  yo'  can  hab  de  scrapin's  —  dar 's 
'bunnunce  ob  'em  ;  an'  w'en  de  circus  comes 
agin  -  Loss  ter  gracious  !  dare  's  a  great 
big  copper  Miss  Jule  done  gib  me.  Desso. 
[104] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

Yo'  take  it  an'  wrop  it  in  yo'  trousers,  an' 
done  forgit  off 'n  yo'  min'  all  'bout  dis  yer. 
Yo'  hear  me  ?  " 

"  Yessum,"  said  Abram. 

"  .'T  ain  's  ef  yo'  was  skeered  ob  starbin'," 
said  Tolly.  "  Dare,  dat  's  mammy's  boy. 
P'r'aps  yo'  pa '11  go  swimmin'  wid  yo', 
come  Sa'day,"  and  planting  then  a  great 
moist  kiss  on  the  soft,  trembling  lips,  she 
lifted  the  basket  to  her  head,  and  felt  bet 
ter  when  she  turned,  after  a  few  steps,  to 
see  Abram  first  looking  at  both  sides  of  his 
penny,  and  then  standing  on  his  head  and 
slapping  his  heels  together. 

"Ef  yo'  don'  take  an'  eat  de  las'  crumb, 
honey,"  said  Tolly,  upon  Mrs.  Gilroy's  tear 
ful  refusal  of  her  basket,  —  her  hands,  her 
head,  her  eyes,  all  her  round  body  agitated, 
-  "  I  done  t'row  de  'hole  bakin'  ob  it  out'n 
de  street,  an'  come  up  yere  an'  do  it  eb'ry 
day  !  Don'  yo'  t'ink  yo'  ole  Tolly 's  any 
heart  ?  Yo'  wanter  bre'k  it  ?  Di'  n't  yo'  say 
I  'se  de  bes'  frieii'  yo'  bed  ?  Huccom  yo'  treat 
a  frien'  dat  a- way  ?  Now,  honey,  I  'se  gwine 
ter  come  back  fob  de  dishes  to-morrer,  an' 
by  dat  ar  time  I  'se  gwine  hab  an  idy,  I  spec' 
[105] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

I  reckon,  how  ter  totch  up  dat  feller  settin' 
out  dar  wid  his  fan.  He  don'  lub  de  hot 
wedder  —  he 's  done  gwine  hab  it  hotter 
here,  an'  hereatter  too  —  hi-yi !  Like  ter  see 
ole  Mars'  Tollifer  a-flirtin'  ob  a  fan  !  Huh  ! 
I  low  he  ain'  no  kin'  ob  a  genTman." 

"  That  he  ain't,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Gilroy. 

"  But,  yo'  see,  Miss  Jule,"  continued  Tolly, 
wiping  her  face  with  her  apron,  "  he's  dat 
low  down  ornery,  ef  I  done  gib  him  my 
'pinion  ob  him,  he  'd  dess  go  ter  de  boss  an' 
say,  '  Yo'  got  a  nigger  yere,  red -headed  coon 
called  Cassio  ? '  An'  my  ole  man  'd  lose  his 
job.  An'  it's  a  good  job,  Miss  Jule  —  oh, 
pow'fle  good !  He  earn'  git  Tolly's  job, 
dough.  He  earn'  git  his  dirty  han's  inter 
my  tubs.  But  co'se  I  done  go  slow." 

Poor  Tolly's  notion  of  going  slow  was  to 
toss  her  chin  as  she  passed  the  Senator, 
choosing  the  front  door  for  her  way,  and 
to  remark  to  herself,  very  audibly,  "  Huh  ! 
One  ob  dese  yer  No'then  dough-faces." 

Tolly  did  not  take  the  cars  going 
home. 

"  Two  fam'lies  on  my  han's,  an'  I  gotter 
walk,"  she  said  to  herself;  although  she  was 
[106] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

prepared  to  say  to  Miss  Jule,  if  questioned, 
"  Dem  Av'nue  cyars  dess  too  full  ob  dose 
sickly  no-account  Afercans  foh  a  pusson  dat 
'spec's  herse'f  ter  brush  up  against." 

She  came  in,  the  next  twilight,  by  the 
alleyway,  with  another  basket,  and  set  it 
down  to  look  round  and  express  her  delight 
at  seeing  Jack  sufficiently  recovered  to  be 
lying  on  the  lounge  there,  with  Connie's 
hand  on  his  head  —  a  comforting  hand ;  it 
could  not  be  a  cool  one  in  the  stifling  atmos 
phere  of  that  hot  and  dusky  room,  lighted 
only  by  the  reflection  of  the  lamp  in  the 
alley. 

"  Now  don'  yo'  go  ter  hab  no  feelin's 
'bout  dis  yer,"  said  Tolly,  as  she  unpacked 
her  basket  and  looked  presently  at  Mrs. 
Gilroy,  who  was  hiding  her  face  in  the  cor 
ner  of  her  chair  and  rocking  in  a  luxury  of 
woe.  "'Tain'  no  time  foh  de  Tollifer  an' 
Gilroy  pride  er  de  flesh.  I  'se  keepin'  a  res- 
torator,  I  is,  an'  I  'se  trustin'  yo'  an'  Miss 
Connie  twell  yo'  kin  pay  me.  An'  I  spec' 
yo'  ter  pay  me,  ebery  copper.  Yo'  hes  yo' 
reck'nin'  chalked  up  ter  my  place.  I  cou'  n't 
afford  it  no  'er  way,  yo'  know.  So  yo'  ain' 
[107] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

under  no  'bleedzmen'.  Yo  's  holpin'  ter  start 
me  in  de  restorator  bus'ness.  An'  now, 
honey,  I'se  gwine  holp  start  yo'." 

"Tolly!"  said  Mrs.  Gilroy,  surprised  and 
puzzled,  but  tolerant. 

"  Yo'  see  dat  gre't  gold  harp  dar  ? "  said 
Tolly  then.  "  Wha  's  dat  foh  ?  Wha'  foh 
Miss  Connie  wuk  wusser'n  a  mule  learnin' 
how  come  it  full  er  tune,  ef  'twarn'  long 
er  some  puppose  ?  Don'  yo'  call  dat  ar  a 
reel  leadin'  ob  de  Lawd  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  're  talkin'  about, 
Tolly !  "  said  Mrs.  Gilroy,  petulantly. 

"  I  'se  tellin'  yo',  Miss  Jule.  Wen  I  see 
Miss  Connie  a-reachin'  ob  her  arms  'crost 
dat  ar  harp  an'  a-twiddlin'  ob  her  fingers 
thoo  de  strings,  I  dess  t'inks  ob  de  Lawd's 
w'ite  lilies,  an'  I  knows  she  won'  look  no 
diff'unt  w'en  she's  singin'  ob  her  hosannas 
in  heben  —  " 

"  Oh,  my  goodness,  Tolly,  as  if  I  did  n't 
know  all  about  Connie  and  her  harp  ! " 

"But,  Miss  Jule,"  said  Tolly,  bending 
forward  impressively,  "huccom  dar  ain'  no 
brack  folkses  singin'  hosannas  ter  dare  harps 
in  heben  ?  " 

[108] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

"How  you  talk,  Tolly!  I  don't  know, 
I  'm  sure.  I  suppose  there  are." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  honey  !  'T  would  n'  be 
heben !  'T  would  n'  be  heben  noways.  I 
spec'  I  reckon  de  souls  done  grow  w'ite, 
Miss  Jule,"  said  Tolly.  "  But  how  is  dey 
gwine  play  de  harp  up  yander  ef  dey  'ain' 
neber  learn  ter  play  it  down  yere  ?  Desso. 
Dat  's  w'at  fotches  rne,"  said  Tolly,  drawing 
back  with  her  hands  upon  her  hips,  and  the 
bright  ends  of  the  knot  in  her  turbaned 
handkerchief  bristling  like  birds  ready  to  fly. 
"  Huh  !  Miss  Jule  !  De  on'iest  way  is  foh 
dem  ter  learn  ter  play  dare  hosannas  yere, 
'foh  dey  go  dare.  I  'se  comin'  ter  de  nub  atter 
a  w'ile,  honey.  An'  ef  Miss  Connie  don' 
effuse  ter  do  it  —  it 's  Chrissen  wuk  —  I  'se 
got  a  dozen  li'l  cullud  gels,  an'  dare  mas  '11  be 
tickle'  ter  deff  ef  she  gib  'em  lessons  onter 
de  harp.  Dare  !  Desso.  An'  dey  all  dess 
honin'  atter  it.  An'  dey  all  hes  de  money 
ter  pay,  foh  dey  all  hes  dare  own  washtubs." 

"Tolly  ! "  screamed  Mrs.  Gilroy,  lifting  her 

dishevelled  head  and  tear-stained  face  from 

the  side  of  the  calico-covered  chair  where 

she  was  rocking  to  and  fro  —  "  Tolly  Jupi- 

[109] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

ter !  I  never  knew  such  impudence  in  my 
born  days.  The  i-dea  !  That 's  just  what 
this  ridiculous  wah  has  done  !  A  dozen — " 

"  Don'  yo'  go  foh  ter  say  it,  Miss  Jule  ! " 
implored  Tolly,  in  her  silveriest  tone.  "  Don' 
yo'  go  ter  gittin'  ma-ad,  honey.  Brack 
money  's  good  es  w'ite.  She  would  n'  tek 
no  harm  learnin'  'em  in  Sunny-schule.  Yo' 
own  ma  totched  me  de  Sermon  on  de 
Mount.  An1  dare  li'l  brack  han's  'ud  look 
mighty  peart  pickin'  on  dem  strings  - 

"Oh,  Tolly,"  cried  Connie,  "let  them 
come  !  1 11  like  it.  I  '11  like  it  right  well, 
you  dear  Tolly  !  And,  you  know,  ma,  dear, 
it  will  be  something  —  " 

"  Sumpin  ? "  cried  Tolly.  "  It  '11  be  food 
an'  fiyeh  an'  clo'se  twell  Mars'  Jack  comes 
roun'  right.  An',  Miss  Connie,  lamb,"  said 
Tolly,  turning  to  the  one  who  would  listen 
to  reason,  "  dat  ar  ain'  de  hull.  Dare 's 
Mars'  Jack's  place  up  de  M  Street  bank. 
Mebbe  'tain'  on'y  a  li'l  two-story  ole  ram 
shackle,  but  it 's  done  got  a  po'ch,  an'  a  bit  er 
groun'  foh  a  rose  an'  a  watermillyun ;  an'  ef 
yo 's  married  ter  Mars'  Jack,  co'se  it 's  yo's. 
An'  my  ole  man  '11  come  wid  his  cyart  by 
[110] 


A    GUARDIAN    ANGEL 

daylight,  'fob  it 's  time  fo'  de  boss,  an'  rnoob 
dese  yer  t'ings  ob  yo's  wid  me,  wedder  I 
habs  ter  hab  a  right  smart  ob  a  li'l  chaw  fus' 
er  not.  An'  I  'se  git  yo'  plumb  settle'  dah 
'foh  de  chillims  comes  foh  dare  lessons.  An' 
yo'  earn'  tek  car'  ob  Mars'  Jack  as  't  is,  honey ; 
but  ef  yo 's  his  wife,  co'se  t'ings  is  diff'unt, 
honey,"  said  Tolly,  tenderly  as  a  marriage 
benediction.  "An'  dar 's  gwine  ter  be  a 
monstus  rise  ob  Ian',  I  years  tell,  up  dat 
a- way  ;  make  de  lot  wuff  a  brick  house  dat 
keeps  dese  yer  lodgers,  an'  fotch  in  a  heap 
er  money,  twell  Mars'  Jack  done  git  his 
bus'ness." 

"  Oh,  Tolly,"  murmured  Jack,  "  you  are 
a  blessing  to  society ! " 

"Ki-yi!  Mars'  Jack!"  laughed  Tolly. 
"  Yo'  ain'  so  bery  past  goin' !  Yo 's  a-comin' 
roun'  fas'.  Be  on  yo'  foots  in  de  twinkle  ob 
yo'  eye.  Now,  Mars'  Jack,"  said  Tolly, 
stepping  across  the  room  and  bending  over 
him,  "yo's  done  hab  a  trifle  er  money  in 
yo'  close,  put  by  todes  dese  yer  rainy  days  ? 
Co'se,  co'se.  An'  yo's  got  some  fren'  er 
nurer  ?  Desso.  Den  yo'  let  'im  done  git 
de  licenses  an'  de  passon  ter-morrer  mornin'. 
[Ill] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Laws  ter  gracious ! "  as  she  threw  back  her 
head  with  a  peal  of  joyous  and  contagious 
laughter,  "  Ef  dis  yer  cullud  pusson's  heart 
ain'  done  bust  wid  joy  ter  come  walkin' 
down  yere  ter-morrer  night,  an'  dat  ar'  Mars' 
Senator  a-sottin'  out  yander  wid  his  fan,  an' 
step  up  an'  tell  him  howdy,  an'  say,  '  Yo' 
'ain'  seed  Mis'  Jack  Knowles  gwine  out,  I 
dun'no'  ? '  Huh  !  Dare,  dare  ;  't  ain'  no  cos'- 
Her  to  lib  single  nor  it  is  double.  An'  de 
Lawd  '11  tek  car'  ob  de  sheared  lambs.  Yo' 
see,  he 's  a  doin'  ob  it  now ! " 

"Oh,  ToUy,  Tolly!"  cried  her  penitent 
and  reckless  mistress,  her  arms  round  Tolly 
as  far  as  they  would  go.  "  You  are  our 
guardian  angel ! " 

"  Huh  !  Miss  Jule  ! "  said  Tolly,  laughing 
and  crying  together.  "  I  telled  yo'  afoh. 
Who  eber  heered  of  a  brack  guarding 
angel?" 


Ill 

In  a  Conspiracy 


In  a  Conspiracy 

A"  L  at  once  the  heads  of  the  grave 
and  reverend  seigneurs  in  the  Sen 
ate  chamber  were  turned  toward  the 
diplomatic  gallery,  and  Senator  Bortle's  head 
with  them.  Harry  Bentinck  had  just  come 
in  from  the  House  to  consult  one  of  the 
senators  of  his  State  regarding  a  point  in 
question,  and  of  course  his  gaze  followed  the 
others.  The  heads  slowly  turned  back  again, 
and  the  business  of  the  hour,  which  really 
had  not  had  an  appreciable  pause,  was  re 
sumed.  Kindly  remember  that  this  was 
some  years  ago.  Perhaps  the  heads  of  sena 
tors  are  not  so  easily  turned  to-day. 

It  was  but  a  moment;  but  in  that  mo 
ment  all  things  had  made  shift  to  change, 
and  nothing  was  ever  quite  the  same  to 
Harry  Bentinck,  Member  of  Congress  from 
a  district  famed  for  sending  a  powerful 
representative,  and  a  man  of  whom  rather 
remarkable  things  were  expected. 
[115] 


OLD    W  ASHING  TON 

He  passed  his  hands  across  his  eyes  with 
a  quick,  involuntary  motion.  "  Dazzled  ?  " 
said  Senator  MacMichael,  at  whose  desk  he 
stood.  "Well,  then,  have  a  care.  There 
are  hidden  reefs  in  those  waters.  Wiser 
men  than  you  have  come  to  shipwreck  over 
just  such  spots." 

But  what  was  that  to  Harry  Bentinck  ? 
He  was  suddenly  aware  that  he  was  living 
his  own  life,  aware  of  it  with  a  fulness  of 
the  heart,  a  bounding  of  the  blood,  an  exhil 
aration  of  the  brain,  that  made  him  feel  clear 
headed  enough  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  the  universe.  Alas,  he  had  only  plunged 
into  the  darkness  of  the  greatest  secret  of  it 
all !  He  had  fallen  irrecoverably  in  love 
with  Gloria  Campeador. 

The  old  Senator  glanced  up  into  the  gal 
lery  and  glanced  away  again.  He  saw 
nothing  there  to  detain  the  eye  imperatively 
— just  a  pretty  woman.  But  what  Harry 
Bentinck  saw  was  all  the  romance  of  old 
Spain,  of  young  Cuba,  of  girlhood,  of  inno 
cence,  of  beauty,  of  love.  As  the  girl  stood 
an  instant,  while  her  companion  seated  her 
self,  one  saw  her  tall  shape  and  observed  the 
[116] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

mantilla-like  effect  of  her  hat  and  veil,  for 
she  was  in  a  sort  of  half  mourning,  and  then 
the  perfect  pallor,  as  smooth  and  exquisite 
as  that  of  the  petal  of  a  cape  jasmine,  and 
the  face  in  which  her  features  were  chiselled 
like  some  delicate  sculpture,  and  where  the 
eyes,  large  and  black  fringed,  glowed  like 
dark,  unknown  jewels. 

"  You  meaner  beauties  of  the  skies, 
What  are  you  when  the  moon  doth  rise  ?  " 

Harry  Bentinck  was  saying  to  himself,  and 
he  was  making  for  the  gallery,  where  An 
thony  should  introduce  him,  when  he  was 
met  by  this  senator  and  by  that,  with  con 
gratulations  on  his  speech  of  the  day  before 
in  the  House,  and  delayed  till  there  were 
too  many  up  there  to  make  it  wise  to 
add  himself  to  their  indistinguishable  num 
ber,  even  if  the  Vice-President  had  not  left 
his  chair  just  then  and  walked  with  him  to 
a  sofa,  where  he  might  speak  with  him  on 
a  subject  of  mutual  interest;  for  the  young 
congressman  was  already  a  person  of  some 
importance.  Well,  he  would  make  inquiries 
by  and  by,  he  thought.  He  was  not  to  be 
[1171 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

baffled  in  anything  on  which  he  had  set  his 
heart. 

And  meanwhile  here  was  this  pressing 
piece  of  business ;  and  there  was  the  Jus 
tices'  dinner;  and  the  Cuban  matter,  of 
which  he  knew  nothing,  to  look  up  for  an 
interview  in  The  Lictor  in  the  interest  of 
some  of  the  people  at  home  who  wished  to 
maintain  things  as  they  were;  and  so  the 
time  passed.  And  the  next  day  a  pair  of 
constituents,  who  considered  that  they  owned 
him,  had  to  be  taken  care  of  and  shown 
the  city,  and  there  were  the  committee 
meetings,  and  a  matter  to  be  laid  before  the 
President,  and  Harry  Bentinck  found  that 
the  man  who  served  his  country  had  not 
much  time  in  which  to  serve  himself.  All 
the  same  he  had  not  turned  a  corner  with 
out  looking  either  way,  and,  although  many 
of  the  young  women  taking  their  afternoon 
stroll  on  the  Avenue  or  driving  up  and  down 
its  length  bent  for  a  second  glance  at  the 
tall  and  handsome  young  fellow  swinging 
down  from  the  Capitol  with  the  ruddiness 
of  youth  still  on  his  countenance,  in  his 
wish  to  see  one  he  saw  none. 
[118] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

It  was  quite  perfunctorily  and  because  it 
was  expected  of  him,  being  on  the  com 
mittee  for  foreign  affairs,  that  he  went  to 
the  ball  at  the  Mexican  legation.  He  wan 
dered  through  the  rooms,  seeing  few  that  he 
knew  and  thinking  he  was  not  made  for 
social  life  and  he  would  be  better  at  home 
reading  up  on  international  law,  when,  like 
a  statue  in  relief  against  a  mass  of  mossy 
greenery,  he  saw  Gloria,  clad  in  white  satin, 
her  fingers  playing  with  the  rope  of  pearls 
that,  falling  from  the  high  comb  in  her 
blue-black  shining  hair,  wound  about  her 
throat  and  fell  again  below  her  waist.  At 
that  moment  she  dropped  her  fan.  "  Thank 
you,  Mr.  Bentinck,"  she  said  very  distinctly, 
as  he  bent  and  restored  it,  and  then  he  bent 
again  and  almost  as  low.  "  I  saw  you,"  she 
said  then,  with  an  enchanting  smile,  "  in 
the  Senate  chamber.  I  asked  who  you 
were  —  " 

"  I  also,  senorita  —  I  saw  you,"  he  mur 
mured,  "but  no  one  has  told  me  your 


name." 


"  I     am    Gloria    Campeador,"    she    said 
gently.     "  They    do  not   call   me   senorita, 
[119] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

although  I  am  Cuban  born.  But  I  have 
lived  so  long  in  New  York,  out  of  my  own 
country,  the  habits  follow  me  — ' 

"  You  call  Cuba  a  country,  then  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Bentinck. 

"  Cuba  a  country  ! "  The  heavy  white  lids 
lifted  in  a  flash.  "  What  do  you  call  it  ? 
A  Spanish  dependency  ?  No,  no  !  She  is 
chained  and  bound  and  bleeding,  but  she 
is  utterly  a  country,  the  youngest  of  all 
the  countries,  may  be,  —  my  country ! "  Al 
though  she  spoke  so  low,  with  a  sort  of  re 
straint  in  her  voice,  there  was  a  fire  beneath 
the  tone  that  kindled  response  in  the  hearer. 

"  You  make  me  believe  you,"  he  said. 

"Ah,  then,"  she  replied,  with  a  quick 
laugh,  as  she  threw  open  her  fan,  "  that 
repays  me  for  keeping  my  temper.  And 
you  know  it  is  difficult,"  she  said  quickly, 
half  under  her  breath,  "when  my  one 
thought,  my  one  hope,  is  for  my  country." 

She  was  so  beautiful,  so  impassioned,  as 
she  stood  there,  still,  half  leaning,  with  a 
certain  languor  of  attitude,  but  with  such 
a  glow  in  her  eye,  on  her  smile,  that  Harry 
Bentinck  felt  a  sudden,  strange  dislike  of 
[120] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

other  eyes  upon  her.  "You  shall  tell  me 
about  it,"  he  said. 

"  Here,  in  a  ballroom  ? "  she  replied  gayly. 
"  Ah,  you  will  forgive  me  that  I  spoke  of 
anything  so  sad  and  serious  when  we  should 
do  nothing  but  dance."  And  then  the 
music  began  again,  and  Mr.  Bentinck,  who 
had  not  danced  for  years,  hardly  knew  how 
it  was  that  he  was  whirling  down  the  room, 
with  an  arm  about  that  waist,  with  that 
fragrant  hair  almost  touching  his  shoulder, 
and  with  his  senses  steeped  in  the  subtle 
spell  of  the  warmth,  the  deliciousness  of  the 
moment,  the  music  quickening  into  a  mad 
movement  and  sweeping  them  at  its  will. 

"  Stop ! "  she  said  imperiously,  as  the 
dance  surged  on.  "  Stop !  It  is  not  the 
way  I  like  to  dance.  I  will  not  be  taken 
out  of  myself  so."  And  the  color  flashed 
over  her  face,  but  left  it  as  instantly  in  its 
creamy  pallor,  when  they  paused  where  the 
wind  blew  in,  and  recovered  their  breath 
under  the  bough  of  a  great  palm.  She 
waved  her  fan  slowly,  shedding  its  violet 
wood  odor  about  her.  Then  she  looked 
up  and  smiled  her  slow,  delightful  smile. 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Dancing  is  like  life,  is  it  not  ? "  she  said. 
"  Now  you  must  take  me  to  my  aunt." 
And  as  they  went  along  she  added,  "  You 
reverse  very  well." 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  they  threaded 
the  crowd,  detained  at  every  turn  by  salu 
tations,  and  now  and  then  accosted  by  men 
who  bowed  their  sleek  dark  heads  and  mur 
mured  some  French  or  Spanish  sentence  as 
they  passed.  They  paused  at  length  before 
a  sleepy  woman  of  massive  proportions,  who 
sat  in  a  row  of  stately  dames  as  weary  as 
herself. 

"Ma  tante,"  she  said,  "this  is  Mr. 
Bentinck.  I  have  introduced  myself  to 
him.  I  have  danced  with  him.  I  have 
committed  every  impropriety  —  have  I  not, 
Mr.  Bentinck  ?  —  which  a  duenna  should 
prevent  and  of  which  a  chaperon  should 
disapprove,  and  I  want  you  to  condone 
them  all,"  still  speaking  rapidly  in  French, 
"by  inviting  Mr.  Bentinck  —  Mr.  Bentinck, 
Madame  D'Arco  —  to  call  upon  you  at  the 
Arlington.  Won't  you  ?  " 

The  duenna  would  have  been  more  than 
human  to  resist  that  coaxing  accent,  and 
[Itt] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

she  murmured  something,  and  Mr.  Ben- 
tinck,  acknowledging  the  introduction  and 
the  invitation,  murmured  something  else. 

"  You  speak  French  to  the  madame,"  he 
said  in  some  surprise. 

"  Instead  of  Spanish  ?  Never  Spanish 
when  any  other  language,  even  that  of 
dumb  signs,  can  be  used.  That  tongue  of 
the  peninsulares  !  I  would  have  all,  all  my 
countrymen  forswear  the  Spanish  and  some 
day  speak  only  the  American."  And  then 
a  dancer  had  claimed  the  Cuban,  and  Mr. 
Bentinck  saw  her  gliding  away  in  the  arms 
of  another  man  with  a  distinct  feeling  of  out 
rage.  But,  although  he  stayed  by  Madame 
D'Arco,  furbishing  up  his  best  French  for 
her  benefit,  further  pleasure  was  not  given 
to  him  that  night.  He  had  not  even  that 
of  putting  Gloria  into  her  carriage ;  and  all 
the  music,  all  the  flowers,  all  the  jewelled 
dancers,  all  the  beautiful  women,  were  no 
more  than  phantoms  moving  to  noiseless 
measures. 

It  was  of  little  use  for  Mr.  Bentinck  to 
attempt  his  congressional  duties  the  next 
day.  The  clerk  seemed  to  be  droning 
[123] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Spanish,  the  calling  of  the  roll  was  only  an 
iteration  of  the  syllables  of  Gloria  Cam- 
peador's  name,  and  between  the  leaves  of 
the  folio  he  pretended  to  consult  swam  in 
that  beautiful  pale  face,  and  he  kept  saying 
to  himself: 

"  She  walks  in  beauty  like  the  night 
Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies, 

And  all  that 's  best  of  dark  and  bright 
Meet  in  her  aspect  and  her  eyes." 

He  was,  after  all,  an  innocent  young 
fellow,  with  a  talent  for  telling  speeches, 
and  he  had  been  pushed  along  by  the  people 
at  home  more  for  his  promise  than  his  per 
formance,  and  partly  because  youth  is  plastic 
and  sometimes  easily  moulded  to  the  pur 
poses  of  others. 

He  had  been  born  to  one  of  the  big  for 
tunes  ;  he  had  been  occupied  with  books  and 
debates  and  business ;  he  had  once  gone 
down  into  Mexico  about  some  land  titles 
and  caught  up  a  little  Spanish ;  and  he  had 
been  more  than  once  abroad  in  various 
ways,  but  he  had  never  had  time  to  fall  in 
love  before.  When  at  length  he  was  called 
into  a  cloakroom  for  a  consultation  with  one 
[  124] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

of  his  colleagues  about  a  certain  bounty,  he 
agreed  to  everything  the  other  said  without 
having  heard  a  word,  and  he  escaped  at  last, 
as  if  from  a  bear  garden,  to  his  own  rooms, 
a  toilet,  and  the  Arlington. 

Several  people  were  before  him.  Madame 
D'Arco,  filling  and  overflowing  her  arm 
chair,  sat  by  the  fire  sipping  her  chocolate, 
and  Gloria  sent  away  a  dark  youth  and 
invited  Harry  Bentinck  to  a  place  among 
the  cushions  beside  herself.  She  was  in 
a  shapeless  robe,  more  like  a  cloak  than  a 
gown,  he  thought,  of  some  thin  white  silk, 
with  great  flots  of  lace,  the  drapery  curl 
ing  round  her  feet  as  she  rose.  A  white 
lace  mantilla  fell  from  her  hair,  and  she  wore 
the  pearls  again. 

"  Do  you  always  wear  pearls  ? "  he  said. 

"  Almost  always,"  she  replied.  "  I  had 
other  things,  to  be  sure  —  Spanish  topazes. 
I  Avould  have  given  them  to  the  maids,  but 
I  sold  them  instead.  As  for  the  diamonds, 
they  are  my  aunt's,  too,  and  entailed  anyway. 
And  so  are  the  great  star  sapphires  from 
Ceylon,  whose  history  is  part  of  the  history 
of  queens.  But  I  wear  pearls  for  the  sake  of 
[125] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Cuba,  the  Pearl  of  the  Antilles.      That  is 
sentimental,  fantastical  ?     At  any  rate  - 

"At   any  rate,  it  is  beautiful,"  he   said. 

"  If  you  mean  that  the  pearls  are  beauti 
ful,  why,  I  know  it.  If  you  mean  that 
Cuba  is  beautiful,  oh,  then  you  win  my 
heart ! " 

"  I  would  mean  anything  for  that,"  he 
said. 

"  You  know  I  did  not  intend  -  But 
perhaps  I  shall  put  you  to  the  test,"  she 
added  archly.  "  Is  it  two  lumps  or  three  ? 
Not  any  tea  ?  Nor  chocolate  ?  Then  you 
will  have  a  cigarette  ? "  And  she  rolled 
him  one,  and  then  she  rolled  another  for 
herself.  "  Is  it  disenchanting  ?  "  she  said, 
holding  it  off  after  a  fairy  puff,  and  with  a 
laugh  that  at  all  events  was  captivating. 
"  But  it  is  a  custom  of  my  country." 

"Rather  of  old  Spain,  is  it  not?"  said 
Mr.  Bentinck. 

In  an  instant  the  cigarette  had  flashed 
into  the  grate.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  I  never 
cared  for  it,"  she  said,  "  but  it  was  just  a 
duty,  you  know,  to  do  anything  that  is 
purely  Cuban." 

[126] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

"  Or  Russian  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes !  You  are  right.  The  only 
thing  that  really  seems  to  be  purely  Cuban 
is  suffering." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  not 
considered  it  sufficiently.  I  am  ill  informed 
on  this  matter  that  interests  you  so  deeply." 

"  You  shall  be  better  informed  before  you 
leave  us,"  she  exclaimed,  and  she  leaned 
back  among  the  cushions  and  looked  straight 
before  her,  so  proud,  so  pale,  so  melancholy, 
that  Harry  did  not  know  whether  the  thrill 
that  went  through  him  was  a  pang  of  sym 
pathy  for  her  sorrow  or  of  joy  for  her  beauty. 

But  whatever  she  might  have  said  was 
interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  other  guests. 
"  Do  not  go,"  said  Madame  D'Arco,  beckon 
ing  him  to  her  side.  "  Let  them  pass."  And 
then  for  an  hour  or  more  he  had  to  endure 
the  presence  of  an  ex- Secretary  of  State,  of 
General  Boyne water  and  another  general 
who  had  led  triumphant  battalions,  of  Sen 
ator  Bortle,  some  women  of  fashion,  and 
various  foreigners. 

Harry  Bentinck,  speaking  now  and  then 
with  one  and  another,  through  it  all  really 
[127] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

saw  no  one  but  Gloria,  the  ease  with  which 
she  discussed  with  the  Secretary  the  policy 
of  his  predecessor,  the  sparkle  with  which 
she  met  the  soldiers,  the  half  gracious,  half 
indifferent  lassitude  of  her  manner  with  the 
foreigners,  the  fire  that  every  once  in  a  while 
flashed  out  through  it  all.  "  I  am  tired," 
she  said,  when  the  door  closed  on  the  last 
of  them.  "  I  shall  have  to  let  you  go.  But 
you  will  come  again  ? "  And  he  went  up 
to  a  night  session  of  the  House  as  gloomily 
as  if  he  had  been  shut  out  of  paradise. 

It  was  the  next  morning  that,  something 
overdone,  he  ordered  his  horse  for  a  canter 
out  Rock  Creek  way  before  breakfast,  the 
roads  being  hard  with  frost.  It  was  a  day 
when  in  the  thin  film  of  mist  that  overlay 
the  sky  the  whole  atmosphere  seemed  one 
vast  opal,  and  all  the  country  glistened  in 
rime  under  hazes  of  blue  and  silver. 

The  charm  of  it,  the  keen  air  and  the 
motion,  gave  him  presently  an  exhilaration 
that  overcame  his  fatigue,  a  nameless  joy, 
just  the  joy  of  living  and  breathing,  perhaps 
of  loving.  He  had  nearly  reached  the  old 
mill  when  two  riders  came  galloping  down 
[128] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

the  crossroad  and  passed  on  without  ob 
serving  him,  the  skirt  of  one,  the  veil,  the 
loosened  tress,  blowing  on  the  wind,  and 
the  dazzling  beauty  of  the  face  flashing  by 
like  an  apparition.  The  other  rider  —  it 
was  not  so  easy.  He  remembered  that 
somewhat  knightly  bearing.  He  remem 
bered  that  thin,  dark,  eager  face,  with  the 
burning  eyes.  Pie  had  seen  it  at  the  door 
of  the  Arlington,  perhaps  on  the  Avenue, 
under  a  sombrero. 

What  was  she  doing  out  here  so  early, 
with  no  groom,  riding  alone  with  that 
fellow  ?  Mr.  Bentinck  felt  his  heart  quicken, 
and  when  their  speed  slackened  and  he  saw 
her  companion  bend,  as  he  rode,  and  take 
her  hand  and  go  on  slowly  a  few  paces  in 
that  way,  he  felt  like  spurring  on  his  good 
Morgan  and  riding  the  man  down.  But 
presently  the  two  shook  their  bridles  and 
proceeded  at  a  round  gait,  and  the  young 
Congressman,  who  had  unconsciously  fol 
lowed  them,  turned  and  took  another  road, 
very  unfitted  for  his  duties. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Bentinck  would  have  been 
still  more  unfitted  had  he  heard  the  conver- 
9  [  129  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

sation    of  the    riders    as    they    went    their 
way. 

"  He  is  important,"  the  man  was  saying ; 
"  as  important  as  your  senators.  The  hos 
tile  business  interest  —  the  sugar  interest, 
you  know  —  in  his  district  is  immense.  It 
can  make  him  or  break  him.  It  can  drive 
him  to  open  measures  of  hostility  that  may 
ruin  us.  It  can  demand  them  of  him  or 
ruin  him,  poor  devil !  I  hate  to  make  him  a 
tool  —  there  is  something  frank  and  gener 
ous  in  his  bearing  that  takes  the  heart  - 
but  needs  must  for  the  cause.  Add  it  up 
against  the  Spaniard.  His  birth,  his  breed 
ing,  his  wealth,  all  make  him  a  power  in 
another  way.  And  then  the  money  behind 
him,  the  money  of  those  people  that  can  run 
over  into  elections !  He  is  new  here,  but 
what  he  asks  of  the  Administration  he  is 
very  likely  to  have.  Yes,  if  you  can  silence 
him,  can  only  keep  him  silent,  you  do  well." 

"  Perhaps  I  may  do  better." 

"  In  what  way  ?  "  was  the  quick  question. 

"  I  may  have  him  espouse  the  cause  —  it 
is    not   impossible  —  give    his   wealth,   his 
talent,  his  name,  to  it." 
[130] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

"  He  will  not  come  back  here  for  a  second 
term,  then." 

"  Ah,  well,  what  then  ?  There  are  as 
good  things  in  life  as  serving  in  that  pande 
monium  up  there." 

"  I  did  not  ask  for  so  much  as  that." 

"  You  shall  have  it,  though.  All  things 
are  fair  in  love  and  war." 

"  Well,  when  Cuba  is  free,  he  can  have  his 
reward,  for  then  there  will  be  nothing  you 
cannot  claim  and  have.  The  work  you  are 
doing  in  making  these  friends,  in  silencing 
these  enemies  and  these  possible  enemies, 
is  equal  to  guns.  But  going  on  with  all 
your  lovers  you  are  like  a  juggler  with  his 
golden  balls  in  the  air.  How  long  can  you 
keep  them  in  play  ?  You  were  rather  dar 
ing  with  Bentinck,  I  should  say." 

"  It  was  necessary  to  startle  him,  to  ar 
rest  him.     But  I  fancy  -  -  I  don't  know  - 
it   seems   to   me  just    now   that    Delilah's 
withes  —  " 

"  God  grant  you  are  not  over-confident, 
my  Gloria  !  It  is  hard  that  you  should  sac 
rifice  yourself  so.  But  it  is  for  our  country, 
our  dear  country  ! " 

[131] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Our  dear  country,  Virgilio  !  "  And  they 
leaned  across  their  saddles,  and  he  kissed  her 
on  the  cheek. 

Nor  was  Mr.  Bentinck  made  easier  in  his 
mind  by  the  sight  of  Gloria,  later  in  the  day, 
lunching  in  the  Senate  restaurant  with  Ma 
dame  D'Arco  and  Senator  Bortle,  the  latter 
known  to  look  unfavorably  on  the  Cuban 
pretensions,  although  her  bow  and  smile 
seemed  to  beckon  the  young  man  to  her 
side,  and  she  asked  him,  when  he  came,  if 
he  were  too  busy  to  walk  down  the  Avenue 
with  her.  He  would  have  walked  down  the 
Avenue  with  her  if  the  whole  business  of  all 
the  United  States  had  come  to  a  standstill. 

But  even  walking  down  the  Avenue 
with  her  alone  —  for  she  had  sent  Madame 
D'Arco  home  in  the  carriage  —  was  not  an 
unalloyed  bliss,  for  as  they  swept  along  he 
could  not  help  noting  strange  glances  of 
recognition  in  Gloria's  eyes  as  they  passed 
this  or  that  dark  stranger  in  the  slouched 
hat,  twirling  his  big  mustachios  sulkily,  and 
more  than  once  the  hat  was  doffed  and 
the  word  was  exchanged  in  passing.  And 
that  these  loungers,  these  filibustero-looking 
[132] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

scamps,  should  have  the  right  to  speak  to 
her  seemed  a  sort  of  sacrilege  that  he  would 
have  liked  to  avenge  on  the  spot.  But  then 
he  knew  he  would  be  content  with  nothing 
less  than  taking  her  away  into  some  far 
region  guarded  by  a  flaming  sword,  as 
Brunhilde's  rock  was  guarded  by  fire. 

"  I  rode  this  morning,  and  I  have  not 
been  in  the  saddle  before  for  some  weeks, 
and  it  is  good  to  walk,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  I  rode  too.  I  saw 
you." 

"  And  did  not  join  us  ? " 

"  Join  riders  who  clasp  each  other's  hands 
as  they  ride  ?  " 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  a  moment, 
and  then  she  laughed.  "  You  might,"  she 
said.  "  Alas,  I  shall  not  long  have  his  hand 
to  clasp  ! "  .she  added,  the  laugh  disappearing 
and  a  wave  of  something  like  anguish  sweep 
ing  over  the  face,  a  wave  of  something  like  de 
spair  sweeping  after  it  into  Bentinck's  heart. 

She  did  not  speak  again  for  several  min 
utes,   looking   the   other  way.     "At   some 
time  I  should  like  to  have  you  know  him," 
she  said  at  length.     "  But  at  present  —  see 
[133] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

how  I  trust  you  —  at  present  there  is  a 
price  on  his  head.  Still,  he  is  tolerably  safe 
here,  I  suppose,  safe  until  he  reaches  Cuban 
waters.  He  is  the  person  I  love  best."  A 
sword  thrust  seemed  to  divide  Bentinck's 
very  being.  "  I  mean  -  -  perhaps  —  oh, 
yes,  he  is  the  one  I  love  best  in  all  the 
world  !  He  is  my  brother,  my  dear  brother 
Virgilio." 

The  sword  thrust  healed  and  made  itself 
whole  in  the  manner  of  a  miracle.  "  God 
bless  your  dear  brother  Virgilio  !  "  exclaimed 
Bentinck. 

She  turned  again,  the  sunshine  of  a  swift 
smile  breaking  through  the  tears  that 
brimmed  her  eyes,  and  impulsively  held  out 
her  hand.  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  I  am  your 
friend !  My  hand  upon  it."  And  if  the 
passersby  thought  the  movement  extraordi 
nary,  they  would  any  of  them  have  been 
glad  to  be  a  party  to  it. 

"  And  you  will  ride  with  me  some  day  ? " 
he  said. 

"  Ah,  that  is  another  question,"  she  replied. 

Just  then  the  wind  that  was  rising  blew 
out  the  flag  from  the  top  of  the  unfinished 
[134] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

Monument,  and  the  westering  sun  struck  it 
so  that  its  dyes  had  a  deepened  splendor. 
Bentinck  saw  it,  and  it  shared  with  every 
thing  else  in  his  feeling  that  to-day  the  uni 
verse  was  something  perfect.  She  saw  his 
glance. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  it  is  like  a  great  flower 
there,  a  great  flower  born  out  of  the  sky. 
You  love  it ;  you  revere  it ;  you  would  die 
for  it.  Then  you  know  how  I  feel,  how  we 
feel,  for  our  own  flag.  Oh,  yes,  you  must 
come  to  me  now  and  let  me  tell  you  the 
whole  story,  its  dark  side  dipped  in  blood, 
its  bright  side  —  oh,  it  has  a  bright  side  — 
white,  white  as  the  light  on  the  souls  of 
heroes.  Let  me  see.  We  dine  with  the 
Chileans,  and  to-night  it  is  the  opera.  After 
the  opera  —  no,  that  will  not  do.  Well, 
sufficient  unto  the  day  —  I  am  not  much 
like  your  idea  of  a  West  Indian,  am  I  ? " 
she  asked,  looking  at  him  with  a  lingering 
sweetness  of  expression,  the  least  color  in 
the  world  suffusing  the  beautiful  paleness. 
"  That  is  because  after  I  left  the  convent 
over  in  Georgetown  and  Sister  Blandine  and 
her  harp,  I  was  at  Madame  Chermodie's  with 
[135] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

the  society  girls.  She  taught  us  charming 
French,  and  which  foot  to  put  first  for  the 
carriage  step,  and  how  to  receive  a  gentle 
man —  and  his  proposal.  Ah,  I  am  too 
bold  !  And  we  taught  ourselves  the  rest, 
the  American  habits  and  ways,  the  Ameri 
can  spirit.  It  was  not  difficult  —  with  our 
mother  too.  But  once  every  year  while  he 
lived  my  dear  father  took  us  home  to  Cuba, 
and  sometimes  we  stayed  long  enough  in 
Havana  to  hate  the  Spaniard  worse  than 
before,  and  sometimes  we  spent  seasons 
on  the  plantations  among  the  mountains, 
and  we  rode  through  the  intendencias,  he 
and  I  and  Virgilio,  from  end  to  end  —  do 
you  know  it  is  a  land  larger  than  Ireland  ? 
and  he  taught  me  that  I  am  a  Cuban  and 
never  to  forsake  my  country.  And  now  we 
have  nothing,  —  the  coffee,  the  tobacco,  the 
cotton,  all  confiscated."  And  she  threw  out 
her  empty  hands,  palms  downward.  "  We 
should  be  beggars,  Virgilio  and  I,  but  for 
my  aunt.  And  she  is  not  quite  sure  that 
we  are  not  mad.  All  that  we  had  has  been 
given  to  the  cause.  But  judge  if  we  love 
Spain  the  more." 

[136] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

"  Love  her  ! "  exclaimed  Harry  Bentinck. 
"  She  is  the  remnant  of  the  dark  ages." 

"  I  knew  you  would  think  so,"  she  said, 
giving  him  again  the  melting  glance.  "  I 
should  never  have  dared  talk  to  you  so 
freely  had  I  not  been  sure  of  it.  I  felt  it 
that  day  I  first  saw  you  in  the  Senate  cham 
ber,  and  I  myself  as  well  as  those  senators 
have  read  your  speech."  And  then  she  re 
peated  in  those  liquid  tones  of  hers,  which 
to  Harry  Bentinck's  excited  ears  seemed 
sweet  as  a  flute  bubbling  over  water,  the 
last  paragraph  of  that  speech  of  his.  There 
was  nothing  more  for  the  Senorita  Gloria 
Campeador  to  do. 

You  may  be  sure  that  Mr.  Harry  Ben 
tinck  was  at  the  opera  that  night.  The 
music  fed  his  mood.  I  think  it  was  Lucia, 
and  Christine  Nilsson  was  singing  it  with  a 
divine  abandonment  of  passion  that  suited 
him.  Flowers  and  feathers  and  jewels  and 
pretty  faces  put  the  dingy  little  National  to 
shame,  and  the  young  attaches  down  in  the 
front  row  stood  up  and  surveyed  the  audi 
ence  through  their  opera  glasses,  and  made 
calls  between  the  acts,  and  broke  in  a  body 
[137] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

for  a  lower  box  when  by  one  movement 
every  eye  in  the  house  was  turned  upon  the 
party  entering  there,  and  Gloria,  shrouded 
in  black  lace,  stood  there  a  moment  like  the 
dark,  contrasting  shadow  of  the  white  beauty 
on  the  stage. 

If  a  queen  had  conferred  knighthood  on 
Harry  Bentinck,  he  would  have  felt  less 
honored  than  he  did  at  the  inclination  of 
that  lovely  head  and  the  scarcely  per 
ceptible  motion  of  the  fan  in  his  direction. 
"  I  have  some  news  that  makes  me  very 
happy,"  she  murmured  when  he  was  beside 
her.  "  I  had  half  the  mind  to  put  on 
my  yellow  satin,  with  my  aunt's  diamond 
butterflies  —  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  in  mourning,"  he 
said,  taking  her  fan  and  opening  and  clos 
ing  it. 

"  For  my  country,  only  for  Cuba  and  her 
sorrows.  My  heart  is  so  often  heavy  for 
her.  But  sometimes  I  wear  blue  because  it 
is  the  national  color.  I  swathe  myself  from 
head  to  foot  in  it.  But,  alas,"  and  she  sighed 
and  she  laughed,  "  blue  is  not  becoming  to 
brunettes ! " 

[138] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  should  say  that  it 
reveals  and  heightens  their  tints." 

"Ah,  well,  I  would  do  more  than  wear 
blue  for  Cuba  ! "  she  said,  still  gayly.  "  You 
see,  my  heart  is  light  to-night,  for  we  hear 
that  the  Hornito  has  made  harbor  and 
landed  her  passengers  and  delivered  her 
cargo.  That  is  good.  It  was  rifles,  that 
cargo.  And  now  there  is  more  work  to  be 
done  —  more  recruits,  more  guns  -  Ah, 
listen  !  How  delicious,  that  white  creature  ! 
An  angel  would  sing  that  way.  Tell  me, 
why  are  angels  always  so  fair,  so  blond  ? " 

"  I  know  one  angel  who  is  not  blond," 
exclaimed  Harry  Bentinck  under  cover  of 
the  music. 

"  Come  and  see  her,  then,  to-morrow  night 
at  nine,"  she  said  airily.  "  You  need  not 
send  up  your  card.  That  is  sometimes  in 
convenient.  Simply  come."  And  Harry 
Bentinck  felt  that  he  was  dismissed  till 
to-morrow  night  at  nine. 

Madame  D'Arco  sat  by  the  fire,  as  usual, 

sipping  chocolate  that  smelled  of  cinnamon 

and  musk,  when  on  the  stroke  of  nine  he 

appeared.     There  was   little  other  light  in 

[139] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

the  room  than  firelight.  Two  men  rose  as  he 
entered.  "  My  brother,  Virgilio  Campea- 
dor,"  said  Gloria.  "  He  passes  as  my  aunt's 
courier,  Johns.  Johns  was  our  mother's 
name.  She  was  American,  you  know.  And 
this  is  General  Piers  Petersen,"  as  the  tall, 
gray-haired  man  reseated  himself.  She  her 
self  took  a  low  place  near  the  hearth.  Cam- 
peador  threw  a  stick  upon  the  fire,  and  it 
blazed  up  and  illumined  her  face  rosily  a 
moment,  and  left  her  like  a  gleaming  ghost. 
For  the  brief  space  110  one  spoke,  and  she 
began  singing  a  chansonette  half  under 
her  breath.  "You  wanted  to  hear  about 
Cuba,"  she  said  presently,  breaking  off  her 
song.  "It  is  so  sad  I  delay.  How  can  I 
tell  you  of  it  all  ?  The  oppression,  the  in 
famous  laws,  the  impoverishing  taxes,  the 
injustices  —  they  are  bad  enough — " 

"  They  are  what  we  revolt  against,"  said 
Virgilio,  quietly. 

"  —  The  insults,  the  cruelties,  the  men 
taken  out  and  shot  before  their  wives,  the 
mothers  hunted  in  caves,  the  homes  burned 
in  the  making  of  those  deserts  they  call 
peace,  the  men  bound  to  a  stake  and  hacked 
[140] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

to  pieces  with  knives,  the  men  beaten  to 
death  in  prison  in  the  horrible  componte ! " 
She  threw  her  hands  up  wildly,  her  voice 
rising.  "  Oh,  the  sting  of  it  all,"  she  cried, 
"  the  malignity,  the  helplessness,  the  misery, 
the  grief!" 

"  And  what  amazes  one  is  the  indifference 
of  the  American,"  said  Madame  D'Arco, 
speaking  for  the  first  time,  but  in  French. 
"  Three  American  boys  are  shot  down  in 
Havana  because  they  wear  a  blue  ribbon 
at  their  throats  —  " 

"  In  twenty  years,"  cried  Gloria,  "  the 
American  will  not  have  avenged  them  ! " 

"  And  the  outrage  of  the  Virginius  —  you 
endure  it." 

Mr.  Bentinck  felt  as  if  he  not  only  had 
endured  it,  but  had  committed  it. 

"  But,  then,  if  the  Americans  endure  it, 
there  are  others  who  resent  it.  Look  at 
Piers  Petersen  here,"  said  Virgilio. 

"  But,  to  be  sure,  General  Piers  Petersen 
has  spent  his  life  avenging  the  wrongs  of 
others  ! "  cried  Gloria  again.  "  There  has  not 
been  a  rebellion,  not  to  say  a  riot,  since  he 
came  of  age  that  he  has  not  meddled  with." 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  I  seem  to  be  growing  old  now ;  some 
what  tired,"  said  the  deep  voice  of  the 
General,  with  the  lisp  of  one  who  more 
frequently  spoke  soft  southern  tones  than 
ours.  "  I  am  sixty  years  old  to-night." 

"  We  will  have  cafe  brule,  then,  to  drink 
your  health  and  many  a  birthnight  to 
come,"  said  Gloria.  And  while  she  was 
ordering  the  coffee  and  the  bowl  and  tray 
the  men  began  to  speak  more  circumstan 
tially  concerning  the  chief  matter  of  interest, 
each  supplementing  the  other  with  state 
ment  and  proof,  with  one  story  after  the 
other,  told  half  in  whispers,  of  ravage  and 
pillage  and  persecution,  of  savage  treachery 
and  merciless  wrong,  till  Bentinck  felt  his 
blood  boil.  "  I  myself  saw  it,"  said  Virgilio. 
"  The  Spaniard  learns  nothing.  Three  hun 
dred  years  ago  the  Aztecs  suffered  at  their 
hands  as  we  suffer  in  Cuba  now.  And 
we,  if  they  take  us  —  Piers  Petersen  and 
I  and  others  —  we  shall  be  lucky  if  we 
are  simply  shot  like  those  boys  on  their 
frolic." 

"But  do  you  not  see  a  superior  duty 
here  ?  "  asked  the  listener.  "  Do  you  for- 
[142] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

get  what  your  death  would  be  to  your 
sister  ? " 

"  Every  drop  of  blood  spilled  cries  to 
heaven  !  "  exclaimed  Virgilio.  "  But  if  I 
have  a  sister,  he  has  a  wife.  And,  then 
-  who  knows  ?  —  it  may  not  be  spilled. 
If  once  we  can  command  funds  for  an 
armed  ship,  for  men,  for  artillery,  why,  then 
it  will  be  our  turn." 

"  Come  !  "  cried  Gloria,  and  she  had  filled 
the  silver  bowl  upon  the  tray  with  the  cafe 
noir,  emptying  into  it  the  contents  of  the 
sugar  basin,  and  was  flourishing  her  allu- 
mette,  the  flame  catching  the  generous 
brandy  that  she  poured  and  running  over 
the  bowl  while  she  stood  shining  into  some 
thing  weirdly  and  darkly  beautiful,  ladling 
up  and  down  what  looked  in  the  dimness  of 
the  room  like  liquid  fire.  When  it  had  all 
burned  out,  she  filled  the  little  cups  with 
the  intensely  sweet  and  strong  result  of  her 
brewing,  and  they  drank  long  life  to  the 
General. 

"And  as  many  revolutions  as  there  are 
kingdoms  of  the  earth,"  said  Gloria  as  they 
still  stood  about  the  table.  "You  must 
[143] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

know,  Mr.  Bentinck,  that  General  Piers 
Petersen  would  be  undone  if  there  were  no 
wrongs  to  right,  no  tyrannies  to  overthrow, 
in  this  world.  There  is  not  a  republic  in 
South  America,  born  in  his  day,  that  he 
has  not  assisted  in  the  making.  He  was 
with  Walker  in  Nicaragua,  with  Fremont 
in  California.  He  was  with  Don  Carlos  in 
Spain  when  they  hung  countesses  to  lamp 
posts,  —  the  Spaniard,  whether  in  revolt  or 
revolted  against,  always  revolting !  He  was 
with  Kossuth,  and  he  swam  down  the  Dan 
ube  on  bladders,  naked,  with  dispatches  in 
his  mouth."  As  she  spoke,  an  electric  glow 
seemed  to  kindle  behind  the  eyes  of  the 
General  that  burned  bluer  than  blue  dia 
monds  are.  "He  has  the  Cuban  color  in 
his  eyes ;  and  his  blood  —  it  is  the  blue 
blood ! "  she  cried.  She  filled  the  cups 
again,  and  they  went  back  and  gathered 
round  the  hearth,  Virgilio  talking,  low 
voiced  and  eager,  Gloria  every  little  while 
emphasizing  what  he  said,  the  General  add 
ing  now  and  then  a  strident  word. 

"  Oh,  you   sympathize,  you  feel   for   us, 
you   are  one  of  us ! "  she  cried,  her  cheek 
[144] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

flushed  in  the  firelight,  the  tear  sparkling 
in  her  eye ;  and  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  a 
moment.  He  took  it  and  held  it,  and  when 
he  left  he  bent  and  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and 
his  eyes  said  all  his  lips  dared  not,  and  the 
long-lashed,  shining  eyes  of  hers  returned 
the  gaze  one  full  moment  and  fell  again, 
and  the  soft  red  mouth  trembled.  And 
under  the  influence  of  the  beautiful  girl 
and  her  heroic  impetuousness,  of  the  ardent 
and  convincing  eloquence,  of  the  strange,  in 
toxicating  draught,  when  Mr.  Bentinck  went 
his  way,  at  an  hour  well  into  morning,  he 
thought  he  understood  the  Cuban  question 
thoroughly,  and  he  had  promised  to  aid  the 
cause  to  the  extent  of  the  whole  of  his 
power  and  the  half  of  his  fortune. 

He  was  still  under  the  glamour,  still  full 
of  the  fervor  of  Gloria's  enthusiasm  when 
the  next  day  he  sat  in  the  committee  room 
sorting  his  mail,  and  in  an  angry  amaze  he 
found  his  desk  half  covered  with  letters 
from  his  constituents  obeying  the  hint  of 
Senator  Bortle,  the  junior  senator  from  his 
State,  urging  him,  as  he  valued  their  sup 
port  and  his  future,  to  resist  by  every  means 
10  [  145  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

at  his  command  the  encroachments  of  the 
Cuban  sympathizers. 

When  Mr.  Harry  Bentinck  entered  poli 
tics,  he  had,  perhaps,  no  very  definite  aim. 
He  certainly  did  not  expect  to  be  President, 
as  he  knew  that,  unless  when  accident  drops 
it  on  some  great  head  to  wear  it  like  a 
crown,  the  Presidency  usually  falls,  from 
long  habit  and  necessity,  not  to  the  brilliant, 
the  ardent,  the  great,  but  to  the  man  whose 
colorless  career  has  made  no  enemies ;  to 
the  stupid,  the  cunning,  or  the  obstinate ;  to 
the  available.  He  had  meant,  however, 
to  be  one  of  the  senators  of  his  State,  first 
of  all ;  feeling  that  no  one  on  earth  held 
a  prouder  position  than  the  senator  of  a 
sovereign  State.  After  that  he  would  at 
some  time  be  called  to  the  cabinet,  and  he 
would  make  his  fame  and  achieve  his  pur 
pose  in  shaping  the  policy  of  the  nation  to 
his  will. 

When  he  was  weary  of  that,  either  the 
people  would  have  abolished  the  diplomatic 
body  altogether,  relying  on  the  consular  ser 
vice,  or  they  would  have  raised  certain  posts 
to  an  ambassadorial  rank,  and  he  would  pass 
[146] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

some  years  in  plenipotentiary  power  abroad  ; 
not  a  position  that  would  allow  him  to  be 
a  dining  and  wining  and  speechmaking 
figurant,  with  the  real  business  transacted 
over  his  head  between  the  Foreign  Office 
abroad  and  the  State  Department  at  home, 
but  one  requiring  the  best  skill  and  knowl 
edge  and  courage.  He  did  not  by  any 
means  think  of  himself  in  a  small  way,  it 
will  be  seen  ;  but  it  was  a  sense  of  con 
scious  power  that  possessed  him,  and  not 
in  the  least  one  of  personal  vanity. 

Possibly  this  unforrnulated  thought,  this 
sense  of  conscious  power,  was  so  strong  in 
him  that  the  letters  of  his  constituents  failed 
to  produce  the  effect  that  had  been  intended. 
They  were  filed  away  unanswered  for  the 
present.  He  had  better  business  in  hand. 
It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  he  was  sacri 
ficing  his  future  to  a  passion,  that  a  poli 
tician  needs  a  foothold  in  a  constituency, 
and  no  statesman  can  do  anything  in  the 
beginning  unless  he  is  raised  on  the  shoul 
ders  of  the  people.  All  he  thought  was 
that  he  was  not  a  man  to  fail ;  that  if  one 
thing  were  not  possible,  another  was  ;  and 
[147] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

that,  for  the  rest,  the  love  of  Gloria  Cam- 
peador  was  worth  all  else  that  destiny  had 
to  offer.  And  he  had  reached  the  point 
where  he  was  no  longer  content  with  just 
the  bliss  of  being  allowed  to  love :  he  was 
determined  to  be  loved  again. 

But  now  affairs  were  not  standing  still. 
On  the  contrary,  they  were  moving  with 
rapidity.  Fiery  spirits  who  burned  for  ad 
venture  or  distinction  were  every  day  com 
ing  to  the  front,  and  arms  were  purchased 
and  negotiations  made ;  for  whatever  might 
be  suspected  of  Miss  Campeador's  political 
activity,  with  a  sort  of  public  secrecy,  it 
was  generally  regarded  as  the  enthusiasm  of 
a  pretty  woman  whose  social  position  was 
not  to  be  ignored.  Those  who,  by  means 
of  their  agents,  knew  all  things,  had  reasons 
for  keeping  their  knowledge  to  themselves, 
and  she  and  her  friends  had  great  latitude 
of  initiatory  movement.  Later  the  strong 
hand  might  interfere. 

It  was  at  the  dinner  of  a  high  foreign 

functionary,  who   might   not   even   at   this 

day  care  to  have  his  name  mentioned,  that 

Mr.  Bentinck,  taking  out  another  lady,  found 

[148] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

himself  seated  beside  Gloria.  She  was  in 
dark  blue  velvet  streaming  with  cut  crys 
tals  like  sapphires,  with  here  and  there  a 
big  diamond,  glittering  from  head  to  foot 
like  the  summer  sky  in  the  dead  of  the 
dark.  The  melancholy  of  her  mien  and 
expression  heightened  the  rapture  of  beauty 
that  made  the  young  man  almost  tremble 
as  he  looked  at  her.  She  was  very  silent, 
with  an  air  half  distrait,  as  if  she  were  alert 
and  listening  for  one  knew  not  what. 

"  He  goes  to-night,"  she  murmured  by  and 
by  to  Bentinck,  as  she  crumbled  her  bread. 
"  My  Virgilio  !  You  will  come  round  ?  Oh, 
yes,"  she  said,  her  head  slightly  bending 
toward  him,  her  voice  so  low  that  only  one 
used  to  its  inflections  could  distinguish  the 
words.  "  All  is  ready.  A  part  sail  from 
Key  West,  a  part  from  Charleston,  and  they 
rendezvous,  as  it  was  arranged,  you  know. 
Nothing  is  changed.  And  -  "  Her  vis-a-vis 
at  the  table,  a  severe  and  stately  dame, 
opened  her  eyes  just  then  to  see  the  young 
woman  empty  her  wineglass  at  a  draught ; 
but  she  said  to  herself  that  one  should  be 
surprised  at  nothing  these  Creole  women  do. 
[149] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

And  of  course  Mr.  Bentinck  went  round. 
Madame  D'Arco,  weeping,  lay  back  in  her 
chair,  looking  like  a  big  bundle  of  gor 
geous  rags.  Gloria  was  in  an  inner  room 
with  Virgilio.  Presently  she  came  out  with 
him.  She  had  torn  off  her  glittering  dinner- 
dress,  and  wore  a  long,  loose-flowing  gar 
ment  of  some  diaphanous,  dark  blue  tissue. 
She  was  clinging  to  her  brother's  arm.  But 
she  stopped  halfway  to  the  door,  pressing 
one  hand  across  her  eyes.  "  Oh,  my  Vir 
gilio  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How  can  I  bear 
it!" 

"  For  our  country,  for  the  future,  for  my 
future  !  "  he  murmured. 

She  drew  down  his  head,  kissing  his 
forehead,  and  threw  herself  upon  his  breast 
with  a  storm  of  sobs,  her  hair  falling  from 
its  comb  and  enveloping  her  in  its  black 
cloud. 

There  came  a  rap  upon  the  door ;  her 
brother  loosened  the  clenched  hands,  still 
holding  them,  and  turned  to  Madame 
D'Arco,  who,  a  fountain  pouring  rivers  of 
tears  in  silence,  had  risen  to  embrace  him. 
Then  once  more  he  took  Gloria  in  his  arms. 
[150J 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

"Oh,  mother  of  God!"  she  cried.  "If 
you  should  not  come  back,  Virgilio ! " 

"Do  not  let  her  faint,"  he  said  to  Ben- 
tinck.  "I  had  best  go  now."  He  looked 
at  Harry  fixedly  a  moment.  "  I  leave  her 
to  you,"  he  said,  and  was  gone. 

And  Bentinck  took  her,  too  sacred  in  her 
sorrow  to  think  of  that  moment  in  relation 
to  himself,  and  laid  her  on  the  lounge,  while 
Madame  D'Arco  bustled  after  some  salts. 
She  lay  there  quietly  till  the  clock  seemed 
to  startle  her  with  its  stroke.  She  slowrly 
opened  her  eyes,  full  of  gloom,  of  grief, 
and  of  tenderness,  and  looked  at  him  kneel 
ing  beside  her. 

"  I  have  no  one  left  but  you ! "  she  said. 
And  then,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  bent  and 
kissed  her  faltering  lips.  There  was  nothing 
said  of  love  or  marriage ;  her  head  lay  on 
his  shoulder,  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms, 
a  long  hour  of  trance.  Madame  D'Arco 
slept,  more  or  less  audibly,  in  her  chair, 
worn  out  with  emotion. 

At  length  he  laid  the  girl  gently  back 
upon  the  cushions  and  pulled  over  her  the 
cloak  of  sables  lying  there,  and  stepping 
[151] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

across  the  room  touched  Madame  D'Arco's 
hand  and  roused  her,  since  when  he  was 
gone  the  door  should  be  locked.  "Let  her 
sleep,"  he  said.  "  To-morrow  I  shall  have  a 
petition  to  make  to  you.  Sleep  well,  your 
self,  dear  madame,  and  good  angels  guard 
you." 

Gloria  kept  a  dreamless  slumber  the  rest 
of  that  night,  but  stirred  at  dawn  and  went 
to  her  own  room.  When  later  in  the  day 
she  woke,  her  maid  had  come  in  and  filled 
the  place  with  white  roses ;  but  the  flowers 
that  lay  upon  her  pillow  were  a  stem  of 
orange  blossoms. 

When  Mr.  Bentinck  appeared  at  the 
Arlington  that  afternoon  the  world  had 
turned  ever  so  slightly  upon  its  axis.  Gloria 
was  no  longer  in  tears,  but  radiant.  The 
carriage  was  waiting  for  her,  and  she  was 
going  to  lunch  with  some  South  Americans, 
her  dress  of  white  cloth  braided  in  silver 
hidden  by  her  enveloping  cloak,  but  her 
white  picture-hat  very  much  in  evidence, 
with  its  high  flaring  brim  overtopped  by  big 
bunches  of  white  ostrich  plumes.  All  her 
dashing  coquetry  had  returned  to  her  — 
[152] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

whether  she  thought  nothing  could  have 
happened  to  Virgilio  yet,  or  whether  her 
gayety  was  assumed  to  mislead  suspicion  as 
to  his  departure. 

"  Your  flowers  are  sweet.  They  always 
are,"  she  said.  "  But,  au  reste  —  I  must 
have  time  to  consider.  I  cannot  take  ad 
vantage,  you  know,"  she  said  with  an  inti 
mate  sweetness,  "of  your  sympathy,  your 
compassion.  So  you  are  pledged  to  nothing 
-to  nothing,  that  is,  but  Cuba." 

And  then  the  soft  and  brilliant  smile 
seemed  to  belie  the  words.  She  gave  him 
her  hand  in  farewell ;  but  she  came  back 
again,  saying,  "  You  are  not  offended  ?  You 
are  always  my  friend  ?  " 

"  No ! "  he  said.  "  I  will  not  be  your 
friend.  I  will  be  your  lover,  your  husband, 
or  nothing ! " 

"But  you  will  be  Cuba's  friend ? "  she 
said,  looking  anxiously  in  his  face.  And 
then  she  tiptoed,  for  tall  as  she  was  he  was 
taller,  and  kissed  him  on  the  mouth,  and 
was  away.  And  whether  she  was  his  be 
trothed  or  not,  the  bewildered  Mr.  Bentinck 
was  not  able  to  say.  And  it  so  happened, 
[153] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

or  was  so  arranged,  that  he  did  not  see  her 
alone  again  for  several  days. 

Nevertheless  Mr.  Bentinck  contrived  to 
be  present  wherever  the  beautiful  Cuban 
went ;  for  his  attractive  personality,  his 
wealth,  his  apparent  possibilities,  had  made 
him  a  favorite  in  society,  and  he  had  not 
yet  had  to  ask  for  anything,  so  ready  was 
every  one  to  confer.  He  felt  a  strong  desire 
to  surround  her  now  with  his  own  people ; 
and  he  was  surprised  when,  having  sent  a 
note  to  Mrs.  MacMichael,  a  personage  of 
the  gay  world  and  the  wife  of  his  old  Sen 
ator,  to  receive  in  reply  her  card,  saying  she 
was  waiting  for  him  in  her  carriage,  and  to 
have  her  begin  as  soon  as  he  was  seated 
beside  her,  "  Now,  what  is  all  this  I  hear  ? 
And  what  does  your  note  mean  ?  And  why 
should  I  call  on  a  Spanish  adventuress  ? " 

"  She  is  not  an  adventuress,  she  is  not 
Spanish,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  you 
should  call  if  you  do  not  wish,  and  I  will 
bid  you  good  morning,"  he  said,  putting  his 
hand  on  the  carriage  door. 

"  Stop,  you  hotheaded  fellow ! "  said 
Mrs.  MacMichael,  cheerfully.  "  Are  n't  you 
[154] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

ashamed  of  yourself?  Who  has  been  your 
friend  the  longer,  I  or  Miss  Campcador  ? " 

"Mrs.  MacMichael,  if  you  wish  me  to 
listen  to  you,  you  will  leave  Miss  Cam- 
peador's  name  out  of  the  conversation." 

"Is  it  really  so  bad  as  that?"  she  said. 
"You  poor  boy.  I  really  don't  know  if 
there  is  such  a  pitiable  thing  going  as  an 
unmarried  man  without  a  sister  or  any  other 
feminine  adviser.  If  you  had  a  mother,  or 
even  a  mother-in-law  —  but  there  is  no  help 
for  it.  I  shall  have  to  be  a  mother-in-law 
to  you  for  the  nonce ;  you  are  one  of  the 
Senator's  boys,  you  know.  I  must  ask  you, 
I  must  implore  you,  not  to  ruin  your  whole 
outlook  by  this  madness  !  You  know  very 
well,"  she  went  on,  in  spite  of  his  effort  to 
prevent  her,  "  you  know  very  well  you  are 
in  training  for  MacMichael's  place  —  and  it 
may  fall  to  you  sooner  than  you  think.  But 
you  will  never  have  it  —  you  will  not  even 
be  returned  to  your  seat  in  the  House  if 
you  offend  the  people  at  home.  They  are 
powerful  enemies,  and  their  interests,  Mac- 
Michael  says,  are  the  interests  of  your  dis 
trict.  Of  course  their  agent  here  has  had 
[155] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

his  eyes  on  you,  and  has  kept  them  informed, 
as  it  is.  But  you  can  stop  just  where  you 
are.  What  is  a  flirtation  more  or  less  ? 
Now,  my  dear  boy,"  continued  Mrs.  Mac- 
Michael,  still  a  very  pretty  woman  herself, 
laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  "there  are  a 
million  pretty  women  in  the  world,  foreign 
and  domestic.  Why  throw  away  a  whole 
lifetime  and  its  splendid  possibilities  on  sim 
ply  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  MacMichael,  you  and  I  are  too 
long  and  too  dear  friends  to  quarrel,"  said 
Harry  Bentinck,  his  face  downcast  and 
flushing,  —  the  face  that  was  so  exactly  like 
the  armless  Hermes  that  there  had  been 
quite  a  sale  for  the  cast  since  he  came  to 
Washington.  "But  it  is  not  worth  while 
to  say  any  more.  I  am  not  authorized, 
you  are  not  authorized,  to  use  this  young 
lady's  name.  But  the  question  behind  all 
the  matter  is  one  that  has  been  brought  to 
my  attention,  and  has  been  decided  on  its 
own  merits — ' 

"Oh!"  said  Mrs.  MacMichael,  derisively. 

"  I  should  be  unable  to  be  an  American," 
he  exclaimed,  "  and  believe  in  the  divine 
[156] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

right  of  the  people  if  I  did  not  sympathize 
with  the  heroes - 

"  Oh,  it  is  hopeless ! "  said  Mrs.  Mac- 
Michael.  "  I  suppose  there  are  no  Spanish 
heroes,  no  Spanish  rights  —  " 

"  None  that  I  know  of,"  said  Harry 
Bentinck. 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  And  if  there  were,  I  am  not  concerned 
with  them." 

"And  you  believe  the  statements  of  the 
unsupported,  irresponsible  insurgents,  these 
knight  errants  of  vagrant  patriotism,  rather 
than  the  evidence  of  your  own  senses  regard 
ing  the  rich  and  populous  and  flourishing 
dependency  whose  commerce  shows  its  good 
government !  I  heard  the  Senator  say  so." 

"  Revolution  is  unknown  under  good  gov 
ernment.  And  nothing  was  ever  well- 
governed  by  Spain.  Have  not  all  the  South 
Americas  escaped  from  her  bondage  ?  Has 
she  not  driven  out  of  her  borders  every  one 
who  ever  had  intelligence,  or  large  thought, 
or  any  capacity  —  the  Moor  when  he  had 
most  of  the  learning  of  the  world  ;  the  Jew 
with  his  wealth  ;  the  Protestant  with  his  in- 
[157] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

tellect  ?  Is  she  not  still  in  the  narrow  ruts 
of  her  bigotry?  Would  it  surprise  you  to 
see  the  Inquisition  set  up  again  in  a  land 
where  they  still  cling  passionately  to  the 
bullfight  ? " 

"  How  can  you  talk  so  of  a  people  with 
whom  we  are  at  peace  ?  And  the  Spanish 
minister  and  his  wife  are  charming,  are 
most  estimable  !  I  dined  with  them  last 
week." 

"  They  are  to  be  promoted  for  their  effi 
cient  work  of  that  sort,  I  hear." 

Mrs.  MacMichael  looked  out  of  the  win 
dow  in  some  perplexity.  "  Well,"  she 
said,  "  I  did  n't  come  to  argue  with  you.  I 
came  to  ask  you  to  drive  with  me  to  Miss 
Campeador's." 

"  With  pleasure,  provided  you  do  not 
speak  to  her  of — 

"What  do  you  think  of  me?  That  I 
would  ask  a  young  lady  not  to  marry 
you  ? " 

"  It  might  be  as  well  to  wait  till  you  knew 
that  I  myself  had  asked  her  to  do  so." 

"  Then  it  is  not  a  fixed  —  then  you  have 

not  —  " 

[158] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

"  One  thing  that  I  have  done  is  to  give 
notice  that  I  shall  to-morrow  ask  the  atten 
tion  of  the  House  to  some  remarks  upon  a 
resolution  in  favor  of  according  belligerent 
rights  to  the  Cubans." 

"  I  think  we  will  drive  home.  Johnson 
—  home  ! "  And  Mrs.  MacMichael  threw 
herself  back  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage 
and  did  not  speak  till  it  drew  up  before  the 
K  street  house,  and  Mr.  Bentinck  sprang  out 
and  took  off  his  hat  and  offered  her  his  hand 
to  descend. 

"  How  very  silly  you  are  ! "  she  said  then. 
"  How  very  silly  we  both  are  !  Come  back. 
I  am  going  to  the  Arlington." 

And  at  the  Arlington  it  turned  out  that 
the  young  Creole's  mother,  Virginia  Johns, 
had  been  the  dear  schoolgirl  friend  of  Mrs. 
MacMichael's  youth.  And  on  the  day  of 
Mr.  Bentinck's  speech  there  would  have 
been  no  more  excited  and  enthusiastic  lis 
tener  than  Mrs.  MacMichael,  who,  had  she 
dared  risk  her  husband's  good  report  at  home, 
would  have  had  Gloria  Campeador  beside 
her  in  the  gallery,  and  would  have  sent 
to  Mr.  Bentinck  the  great  bunch  of  roses 
[159] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

which  she  carried,  and  would  have  taken 
them  both  home  to  dine  with  her,  and  to 
hear  a  long  dissertation  from  the  Senator, 
who,  having  decided  not  to  stand  for  an 
other  term,  would  have  been  better  pleased 
if  Harry  Bentinck  had  not  made  himself  an 
impossible  successor. 

"  I  have  had  news,"  said  Gloria,  meeting 
him  radiantly  a  few  mornings  afterwards. 
"It  is  only  a  scrap  that  Virgilio  has  sent 
me.  They  are  off.  Oh,  I  have  said  all 
my  prayers !  And  now  I  must  go  tell  my 
news.  General  Piers  Petersen  left  his  wife 
here,  did  you  know?  He  thought  he  had 
done  with  filibustering,  and  he  married  over 
here  a  little  woman  with  a  plantation.  Well, 
the  war  knocked  all  that  to  pieces.  But 
then  he  had  the  war,  you  know,  and  that  al 
most  paid  him.  He '  snuffed  delight  of  battle.' 
I  am  on  my  way  to  see  her.  Are  you  going 
with  me  ?  It  is  a  shame  that  I  should  live 
at  the  Arlington  and  dress  like  a  princess  - 
but  it  is  my  aunt,  my  aunt  who  has  the 
money  and  who  maintains  that  I  serve  the 
cause  better  so,  and  who  does  n't  care  so 
much  about  the  cause  anyway  as  she  does 
[160]  ' 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

about  me  —  a  shame,  and  the  dear  little 
Piers  Petersen  woman  living  at  the  top  of  a 
lodging  house.  I  have  been  so  busy  convert 
ing  senators  and  secretaries  I  have  not  had 
time  to  see  her." 

It  was  quite  at  the  top  of  Mrs.  McQueen's 
extension  that  they  found  Mrs.  Piers  Peter- 
sen  in  a  little  hall-chamber.  She  was  wrapped 
in  a  shawl,  for  there  was  no  fire ;  but  she  was 
rosy  and  smiling.  "  I  had  to  let  you  up," 
she  said,  "for  I  didn't  know  but  you  had 
news.  I  am  always  hoping  to  hear  that 
recruits  have  rendezvoused  on  the  Central 
American  shores,  and  that  some  millionnaire 
has  given  us  a  couple  of  swift  cruisers  with 
guns,  and  that  we  have  broken  down  the 
coastguard  and  carried  all  before  us.  Have 
you  news  ?  As  for  me,  I  never  have.  The 
General  never  writes  ;  he  just  appears  ;  usu 
ally  he  has  just  failed  again." 

"  Is  this  —  is  this  -   "  began  Gloria. 

"  How  I  live  ?  Yes.  But  then,  you 
know,  I  am  just  waiting.  It  is  —  that  is  - 
I  mean  —  I  —  "  and  she  suddenly  began  to 
cry.  "  Oh,  what  sort  of  thing  is  this  for  a 
soldier's  wife  !  But  —  but  —  you  know  — 
11  [  161  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

your  nerves  might  give  out,  too,  if  you  had 
eaten  nothing  but  apples  for  a  week  - 

"  Stop  a  moment !  "  exclaimed  Gloria. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  eaten 
nothing  but  apples  for  a  week  ?  Then  I 
will  eat  nothing  but  apples  for  a  week !  " 

"You  foolish  child,"  said  Mrs.  Piers 
Petersen,  who,  being  the  wife  of  a  soldier, 
was  superior  to  the  unmarried  maid,  even  if 
she  were  the  sister  of  a  soldier,  and  superior 
anyway  by  reason  of  the  starvation  on 
apples,  "  don't  you  see  that  the  apple  busi 
ness  is  my  monopoly  ?  "  and  she  laughed  in 
the  midst  of  her  tears,  like  a  child. 

"  Well,  we  can't  encourage  monopolies," 
said  Gloria,  gayly,  "we  who  are  all  for 
freedom.  And  so  you  will  come  out  and 
have  lunch  with  me.  And- 

"  No.  You  may  lend  me  a  little  money 
if  you  will.  But  I  will  stay  here.  He  will 
expect  to  find  me  here." 

"  All  the  money  you  want.  And  I  will 
tell  you  my  good  news  as  we  go." 

"  You  have   good  news  ?     Then  I  don't 
want  the  money  !     I  will  comfort  me  with 
apples  until  he  comes.     He  always  comes." 
[162] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

"  I  think  we  shall  have  to  take  this  into 
our  own  hands,"  said  Mr.  Bentinck. 

And  the  little  woman  had  no  choice  but 
to  go  with  them  for  a  lunch  and  an  after 
noon  of  Faust,  and  when  she  came  home 
her  room  was  filled  with  hyacinths  and  tu 
lips,  and  under  the  tulips  was  a  little  stack 
of  gold  pieces,  which  she  saved  religiously 
for  the  time  when  the  General  should  come 
and  find  her  there. 

But  zealously  concerned  as  Mr.  Bentinck 
had  become  in  the  cause  for  which  he  had 
hazarded  so  much,  he  was  considerably  more 
concerned  about  himself.  That  Gloria  was 
simply  making  use  of  him,  was  trolling  him 
and  his  influence  along  in  creating  capital  for 
her  cause,  and  that  she  was  capable  of  throw 
ing  him  over  like  a  flower  she  had  worn  till 
it  withered,  when  it  suited  her  purposes,  had 
indeed  crossed  his  mind.  And  then  he  had 
reproached  himself  for  his  unfaithful  fancies 
regarding  this  pure  and  ardent  creature,  who 
had  refused  to  allow  him  to  be  pledged,  and 
yet  gave  him  such  absolute  confidence. 

He  had  remembered,  too,  that  in  matters 
of  marriage  there  is  far  more  reserve  in  the 
[163] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

habits  of  the  Spanish- American  people  than 
in  our  own  ;  and  he  assured  himself  that  she 
was  his,  that  she  had  sealed  the  unspoken 
promise  with  her  lips,  remembrance  of  which 
moment  made  his  heart  stand  still  a  sec 
ond,  and  in  the  abasement  over  his  ill-doing 
he  redoubled  his  silent  devotion  and  asked 
nothing  but  to  be  allowed  to  serve  her. 
He  went  about  his  congressional  duties  ab 
stractedly,  and  when  any  of  the  men  he 
met  essayed  to  jest  with  him  on  the  sub 
ject  of  the  reports  they  heard,  their  jests 
glanced  off  his  unconsciousness  like  missent 
arrows. 

He  was,  however,  aware  that  his  col 
leagues  had  begun  to  look  at  him  with  that 
easy  contempt  which  men  have  for  one  who 
abandons  the  obvious  and  material  for  the 
immaterial ;  but  it  only  made  him  shrug  his 
shoulders  and  think  there  were  better  things 
than  their  material,  and  resolve  that  he 
would  have  their  material  and  his  im 
material  too. 

And  in  the  meantime  he  danced  with 
Gloria.  He  dined  with  her  ;  he  took  after 
noon  walks  and  he  took  afternoon  chocolate 
[164] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

with  her  ;  and  they  often  went  across  to 
Mrs.  MacMichael's  for  the  hour  before  twi 
light.  They  were  there  together  one  day, 
and  the  Senator  had  come  in  and  had  been 
chaffing  Harry  a  little  about  his  wasted 
opportunities. 

"  You  will  have  to  be  picking  out  a  place 
abroad,  Bentinck,"  he  said.  "  There 's  noth 
ing  on  this  side  for  you.  Bortle  has  cooked 
your  goose.  You  '11  find  it  easier  to  resign 
your  seat  than  to  face  your  friends  at  home. 
You  can't  have  London  or  Paris ;  they  're 
occupied.  And  you  're  too  young.  But  I 
suppose  you  could  get  Spain,"  he  said 

slyly. 

"  Do  you  imagine  we  would  go  to  that 
unnameable  country  ?  "  cried  Gloria.  And 
the  "  we  "  made  Harry's  pulses  leap.  She 
had  never  been  more  beautiful  than  she  was 
at  that  moment.  The  excitement  under 
which  she  lived,  for  she  was  hourly  expect 
ing  word  which  should  already  have  come 
from  Virgilio,  kept  her  eyes  burning  and  her 
ivory  pallor  warm  with  an  added  life. 

The  day  had  been  one  of  the  delicious 
days  that  often  come  to  Washington  in  mid- 
[165] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

winter,  like  spring  days  wandering  back 
ward,  filling  the  air  with  rich  earth  scents 
and  touching  the  buds  to  swelling,  the  soft 
wind  seeming  to  blow  out  of  some  unknown 
region  of  Paradise,  and  at  its  close,  at  last,  in 
a  dreamy  mist,  a  thundergust  had  gathered 
and  had  broken  while  they  waited  here ;  and 
then  the  sunset  had  burst  over  the  high 
heaven,  as  if  a  vast  ruby  had  let  out  its 
secret,  transfiguring  the  pillared  marbles  and 
making  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  only  a  rosy 
cloud. 

The  crimson  light  fell  through  the  draw 
ing-room  windows  and  kindled  what  seemed 
a  new  depth  in  Gloria's  smile,  and  made 
one  think  of  Galatea  glowing  from  marble 
to  flesh. 

She  turned  to  look  out  at  the  splendor  of 
light  and  exclaimed,  as  a  carriage  at  that 
moment  stopped  below,  "  Why,  there  is  my 
aunt !  And  who  -  -  why,  it  is  the  little 
apple-woman.  Oh,  it  is  General  Piers 
Petersen  !  He  is  back  —  so  soon  —  They 
have  failed  !  They  have  failed  !  And 
where,  where,  where  is  Virgilio  ? " 

Almost  as  she  spoke  Madame  D'Arco  was 
[166] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

in  the  room,  majestic  that  moment  with 
love,  with  grief,  with  compassion,  her  arms 
outstretched  to  Gloria,  and  the  General 
towering  behind  her. 

Gloria  flung  out  her  hands  as  if  to  ward 
them  off.  "  I  know  it  all !  "  she  cried,  as  if 
that  might  hinder  them. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  General,  and  was  silent. 

"  My  Gloria,  my  Gloria ! "  sobbed  Madame 
D'Arco. 

"  Tell  her,  tell  her,  General ! "  cried  his 
wife.  "Oh,  Mrs.  MacMichael !  " 

"  There  was  treachery,"  said  the  General, 
his  voice  deep  with  strange  intonations. 
"  The  boat  was  scuttled.  As  we  rose  on 
the  roller  in  sight  of  shore  she  filled.  Some 
of  us  reached  the  Key  and  were  taken  off 
by  a  passing  schooner.  That  is  how  I  am 
here.  But  he  —  there  must  have  been  a 
blow  —  he  sank  —  he  was  thrown  ashore. 
I  myself  heaped  the  sands  over  that  head." 
And  Gloria  fell  to  the  floor,  as  if  the  treach 
erous  blow  that  slew  Virgilio  had  struck  her 
-as  the  statue  she  had  that  instant  seemed 
might  have  fallen. 

It  was  a  week  before  they  could  tell 
[167] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Harry  Bentinck  that  Gloria  would  live. 
The  congressional  world  saw  nothing  of  him 
in  that  time ;  he  spent  the  greater  part  of  it 
in  walking  up  and  down  Mrs.  MacMichael's 
drawing-rooms.  But  when  that  message 
was  brought  to  him  he  bade  Mrs.  Mac- 
Michael  good-by  and  disappeared,  and 
General  Piers  Petersen  disappeared  with 
him. 

He  went  at  once  to  Baltimore  and  found 
a  yacht,  which  happened  to  be  in  com 
mission  for  a  Mediterranean  cruise,  and 
taking  the  necessary  people  and  appurte 
nances  along,  sailed  directly  for  the  Key 
where  Virgilio  was  buried,  finding  it  with 
little  difficulty,  evading  a  Spanish  gunboat's 
interest  in  the  proceeding,  and  returning 
with  what  he  sought  encased  in  triple  steel. 

And  then  there  was  a  solemn  requiem 
mass  in  St.  Matthew's,  with  the  whole 
splendor  of  the  Church  and  its  music ;  with 
the  chiefs  of  the  Cuban  Junta  and  certain 
high  dignitaries  in  attendance ;  and  out  in 
the  Rock  Creek  burial-ground  Harry  Ben 
tinck  placed  one  long  palm-branch  on  the 
young  hero's  grave  and  a  wreath,  every  star 
[168] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

of  which  was  a  blossom  of  the  Flower  of 
the  Holy  Ghost. 

Gloria  lay  on  a  lounge  surrounded  by  the 
flowers  he  had  sent  her,  armfuls  of  white 
lilacs,  white  herself  as  the  death  she  had 
escaped,  her  long  hair  streaming  almost  to 
her  feet,  when,  the  day  after  this,  he  was 
admitted  to  her  presence. 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment,  saying 
nothing,  and  giving  him  her  thin  hand  ;  and 
then  the  eyelids  fell  and  two  great  tears 
welled  out.  He  would  have  kissed  them 
away,  but  he  dared  not.  He  was  not  very 
certain  of  his  own  standing  in  those  days. 
He  only  touched  with  his  lips  the  finger-tips 
of  the  hand  he  held.  And  he  presently 
told  her  of  the  yesterday's  music  and  of  the 
grave.  He  had  the  choir  come  the  next 
day  and  sing  for  her  a  part  of  the  music,  the 
doors  open  from  room  to  room,  the  voice  of 
a  prima  donna  who  was  then  in  town  soar 
ing  like  a  rising  soul  through  it  all.  He 
came  again  the  following  morning,  sitting 
in  a  low  seat  by  the  lounge,  and  told  her  of 
the  voyage  and  of  the  reef  and  the  long  roll 
of  the  Caribbean  waters  that  had  entombed 
[169] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Virgilio,  where  the  sapphire  deepened  to 
amethyst,  and  broke  to  beryl,  and  powdered 
in  diamond  spray  upon  the  coral  rock. 

And  on  another  day  he  brought  her  a 
miniature  he  had  had  painted  from  a  photo 
graph  of  Virgilio  that  Mrs.  Piers  Petersen 
had.  He  came  every  afternoon  and  stayed 
as  long  as  he  could  make  excuse.  He 
longed  for  her  to  confess  herself  able  to 
drive  out,  in  those  vernal  days  when  the  im 
mense  sky  of  Washington  is  full  of  the  high 
white  light,  and  the  air  is  full  of  the 
sweetness  of  green  grass  and  violets  and 
hyacinths  and  spring  life. 

But  one  day  he  went  in  with  more  deter 
mination.  Her  life  perhaps  depended  on  it, 
he  said ;  he  would  allow  no  false  delicacy  to 
stand  in  the  way.  Mrs.  MacMichael  went 
into  the  adjoining  room  where  Madame 
D'Arco  was  sitting.  "I  think,"  he  said 
gently  to  Gloria,  "that  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  you  should  have  a  change.  If 
you  stay  here  you  will  never  recover  - 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  want  to  recover," 
she  sighed. 

"  I  want  you  to  do  so,"  he  said.  "  And 
[170] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

you  must  come  away  with  me  for  it.  You 
must  break  off  all  these  associations.  You 
must  put  the  mourning,  the  past,  behind 
you.  You  must  come  over  seas  and  begin 
a  new  life  —  with  me,  Gloria." 

Tears  swam  up  as  she  lay  there,  and 
clouded  the  splendor  of  the  great  black  eyes. 
"  There  is  something  I  will  say  to  you,"  she 
said  slowly,  after  a  little  while.  "  Perhaps 
when  you  have  heard  it  you  will  want 
nothing  more  of  me.  I  have  put  the  past 
behind  me,  as  you  say  ;  —  my  brother,  till  I 
see  him  again  ;  —  the  freedom  of  Cuba  till  a 
more  fortunate  day.  But  that  is  not  it. 
You  must  not  look  at  me  or  I  cannot  say 
it!  It  is  this:  When  I  first  let  you  love 
me  —  when  I  —  when  you  —  when  I  kissed 
you  —  I  did  not  love  you.  Oh,  it  is  shame 
to  me  !  I  thought  only  of  my  country,  and 
I  thought  of  what  your  influence  might  be 
in  delaying  hostile  action ;  in  intimidating 
the  Administration  ever  so  little  and  giving 
us  time ;  in  bringing  other  friends  in  your 
train ;  in  adding  to  our  strength  and  num 
bers.  And  I  thought  of  your  money  and 
of  our  need  of  gunboats  and  of  guns.  I 
[  171  ]  • 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

thought  nothing  of  you  —  almost  nothing, 
that  is.  You  see,  I  did  not  love  you  then. 
I  let  you  think  I  did.  You  can  never  trust 
me  again.  And  now,  now,  I  will  tell  you 
—  it  is  shame,  it  is  humiliation,  and  you  can 
cast  me  off  if  you  will  —  but  I  love  you 
with  my  whole  heart  and  soul ! "  And  the 
next  moment  the  face  that  she  had  turned 
to  the  wall  was  caught  back  between  his 
hands  and  was  covered  with  his  kisses,  and 
life  was  pouring  through  all  her  veins  again. 

There  was  a  very  private  ceremony  at 
Mrs.  Mac  Michael's  not  long  after  that ; 
and  Mrs.  Harry  Bentinck  took  a  certain 
proud  pleasure  in  making  a  wedding 
journey  to  Havana,  where,  as  the  wife  of  an 
American  Member  of  Congress,  very  beauti 
ful,  veiy  languid,  very  sumptuously  arrayed, 
she  could  defy  all  the  power  of  Spain  with 
impunity. 

It  was  not,  however,  a  long  visit,  for  it 
was  not  altogether  safe ;  and  besides  that, 
she  had  no  idea  of  her  husband's  resigning 
his  seat  in  Congress.  On  the  whole,  the 
Cuban  business  had  given  him  credit  both 
for  enthusiasm  and  sincerity ;  it  was  under- 
[172] 


IN    A    CONSPIRACY 

stood  that  he  was  owned  by  none  of  the 
great  interests.  Having  occasion  to  do 
some  important  service  for  the  Adminis 
tration  before  his  term  was  over,  he  had  a 
powerful  backing  when  he  went  in  for  Mr. 
MacMichael's  seat  in  the  Senate  and  won. 

Mrs.  Harry  Bentinck  carried  matters  with 
rather  a  high  hand  during  her  husband's 
senatorial  service  ;  and  sometimes  when  she 
met  the  wife  of  the  Spanish  Minister  there 
seemed  to  be  battle  royal  in  the  air  for  a 
moment;  averted,  however,  by  the  sweet 
frigidity  that  reduced  the  surrounding  tem 
perature  below  the  necessary  heat  of  con 
flict.  But  the  latter  years  have  been  passed 
abroad,  where  her  husband  has  held  impor 
tant  posts,  and  where,  whenever  there  has 
been  a  chance  to  throw  a  strong  light  upon 
Spanish  policies,  she  has  not  wasted  the 
opportunity. 

I  met  Mrs.  Harry  Bentinck  the  other  day 
in  Washington,  as  beautiful,  as  imperial  as 
ever,  and  it  brought  her  story  to  mind.  I 
hardly  thought  she  had  come  over  with  the 
simple  purpose  of  seeing  her  children,  who 
are  here  at  school  in  the  resolve  that  they 
[173] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

shall  be  reared  only  as  Americans.  And 
one  may  be  quite  sure  that,  whatever  may 
be  going  on  to-day  in  Cuban  affairs,  Gloria 
is  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  if,  during  the 
recent  war,  a  much-talked-of  note  from  the 
concerted  foreign  powers  was  never  deliv 
ered  to  our  Government,  it  is  not  at  all 
impossible  that  it  was  because  Mrs.  Harry 
Bentinck  laid  a  detaining  finger  on  it. 


[174] 


IV 

A  Little  Old  Woman 


A  Little  Old  Woman 

MRS.  SPENCE  had  come  up  from 
Mississippi,  and  after  many  vicis 
situdes  was  at   last   occupying   a 
hall  chamber  at  Mrs.  McQueen's  boarding- 
house,  where   Beau,  her   man-servant,   had 
some  occasional  occupation. 

Once  Mrs.  Spence  had  been  a  beauty  — 
a  dark  and  gentle  beauty,  with  a  spark  in 
the  darkness.  Now  the  rose  had  withered, 
the  eyelid  drooped ;  she  had  come  to  look 
like  the  cameo  she  had  worn,  where,  behind 
the  white  outlines  cut  to  exquisite  thinness 
on  the  black  onyx,  a  flame  seemed  to  burn 
with  tremulous  restlessness.  Her  manners 
were  those  of  some  sceptreless  queen  relying 
on  tradition  of  old  and  gentle  authority,  and 
her  broken  voice  had  in  it  the  sweetness  of 
a  flute. 

Her  business  in  Washington  had  relation 
to  a  claim  for  damages  to  her  late  husband's 

property  on  the   South   Fork   of  the   Big 
12  [  177  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Ocala,  where  a  detachment  of  Federal 
troops  had  destroyed  crops,  scattered  slaves, 
and  burned  buildings  —  business  that  she 
was  about  as  well  fitted  to  conduct  as  any 
little  black  fly  might  have  been. 

It  would  appear  that,  the  alluvial  deposit 
along  the  South  Fork  of  the  Big  Ocala 
being  fifty  feet  deep  and  of  an  inexhaustible 
richness,  never  were  such  crops  raised  else 
where  ;  and  surely  there  never  was  such  a 
home  as  the  white  mansion,  with  its  pillared 
porches  set  high  among  magnolias  and 
live-oaks,  above  thickets  of  crape-myrtle. 
In  the  evenings  and  at  the  table  Mrs. 
Spence  spoke  concerning  these  things,  and 
sometimes  also  concerning  the  excellences 
of  Major  Spence,  hinting  rather  than  en 
larging.  Perhaps  she  could  not  enlarge 
upon  the  subject  of  Major  Spence  to  stran 
gers  ;  all  the  less  if  by  chance  there  were  in 
her  subliminal  consciousness  the  least  flaw 
in  the  godship  of  the  god. 

But  every  one  believed  her ;  those  of  the 

South  because,  of  course,  it  must  have  been 

so;  and   those   of  the  North  because  long 

reverence  for  that   sort  of  superior   thing 

[178] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

made  it  difficult  to  doubt ;  and  all  because 
of  the  truth  and  innocence  marking  the 
little  old  woman.  And  when  one  adven 
turous  person  hazarded  a  question  as  to 
whether  her  three  hundred  acres  on  the  Big 
Ocala  were  more  than  a  patch  on  a  wheat- 
field  forty  miles  square  that  he  had  seen  on 
the  Pacific  coast,  the  house  rose  in  her 
defence ;  and  none  more  vigorously  than 
did  Miss  Sarah  Woodbury,  a  haughty 
young  woman  from  Massachusetts,  and 
Miss  Raleigh  Cumnor,  a  haughtier  young 
lady  from  Virginia. 

Miss  Sarah,  desiring  a  warmer  climate  for 
her  throat,  and  hearing  that  women  were 
employed  in  the  Departments,  had  trusted 
in  what  was  vaguely  called  influence,  had 
drawn  her  little  hoard  from  the  savings- 
bank,  and  had  come  down  to  try  her  for 
tunes  in  Washington.  And  Miss  Raleigh, 
believing  that  a  person  from  the  State  which 
was  the  mother  of  Presidents  had  a  right  to 
whatever  she  would  condescend  to  accept, 
had  some  time  ago  secured  a  position. 

Giving  gage  of  battle  on  other  subjects, 
these  young  ladies  united  in  defence  of  Mrs. 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Spence's  plantation  from  any  Pacific-coast 
aspersion.  And  Miss  Sarah  invited  the  lit 
tle  lady  to  warm  her  feet  at  her  open  fire, 
thinking  at  first  that  she  would  improve  her 
guest's  mind  with  a  chapter  from  Thoreau, 
but  deciding  that  she  would  rummage  up 
and  darn  her  stockings  instead,  while  their 
owner  excitedly  told  over  again  her  histories. 

"  Major  Spence,"  said  Mrs.  Spence,  just 
before  rising  to  go,  warmed  with  her  mem 
ories  and  her  listeners'  interest,  "  was  a  man 
of  high  standards.  It  —  it  pains  me  some 
times  to  think  that  perhaps  in  the  later 
years  I  did  not  altogether  reach  them." 

Miss  Raleigh  followed  her  to  the  hall 
bedroom  with  a  glass  of  hot  sangaree.  It 
was  one  of  those  nights  when,  after  the 
fruit  has  flowered,  the  wind  wheels  round 
into  the  north  and  blows  as  if  the  unseen 
agencies  of  cold  had  a  spite  against  all  the 
light  and  lustre  and  leafiness,  the  perfume 
and  warmth  of  spring  in  Washington. 
"It's  mighty  tasty  after  you're  in  bed," 
said  Miss  Raleigh,  stirring  the  sangaree. 
"Now,  I'll  put  out  your  gas  —  'deed  I 
will ! "  And  she  kissed  her  ^ood-night. 
[180] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

"  There  ain't  any  one  kissed  me,"  Mrs. 
Spence  cried  after  her,  in  a  faltering  tone, 
"  since  before  the  wah.  I  —  reckon  you 
mustn't  kiss  me  again;  it's  just  too 
exciting ! " 

Miss  Raleigh  did  kiss  her  again,  and  at 
once.  Miss  Sarah  might  have  thought  it 
was  the  sangaree  that  was  exciting,  but  Miss 
Raleigh  knew  it  was  the  kiss. 

"  I  declare,"  said  Miss  Sarah,  when  the 
other  returned,  "it  is  all  on  such  a  scale 
that  if  it  was  n't  for  that  California  man  I 
wouldn't  believe  there  was  any  place  at 
all ! " 

"  She  believes  it,"  said  Miss  Raleigh,  nod 
ding  her  bright  head  emphatically. 

"  You  're  so  sure  of  it  you  almost  make 
me  believe  it  too." 

"  My  gracious  !  If  the  Nohth  and  Sooth 
had  had  us  to  settle  it  there  would  n't  have 
been  any  wah  ! " 

"  No.  You  can  wile  a  bird  from  off  a 
bough.  How  do  you  do  it  ?  " 

"Oh,  'conjuh.'" 

"  I  remember  thinking  when  I  first  saw 
you,"  said  Miss  Sarah,  shaking  out  her 
[181] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

work,    "that   you   had   the   sweetest    little 
accent  —  " 

"  Oh,  accent !  I  'm  so  tired  hearing  about 
accent !  Why  is  n't  it  you  that  have  the 
accent  ? " 

"Well,  accent  or   not,  it's   charming  - 
all  your   innocent  short  a's,  and  r's  turned 
into   h's,   and  the   lost   digammas   of  your 
final  g's,  and  your  sweet,  musical  drawl." 

"  I  'm  not  sure  if  you  're  insultin'  or  not. 
But  what  a  heap  you  know  ! "  cried  Miss 
Raleigh.  "  Oh,  your  broad  a's  and  things 
seem  so  unfinished,  and  certainly  a  descend 
ant  of  the  Cumnors,  of  Cumnor  Hall  - 

"  Come  to  that,  and  I  am  a  descendant 
of  the  gods  1 " 

"  And  no  less  ! " 

"  Woodbury  is  Woden's  borough.  And 
Woden  means  - 

"  You  make  me  afraid  of  you !  Where 
do  you  keep  your  thunderbolts  ? " 

And  then  the  clock  struck,  and  Miss 
Sarah  put  up  her  red  morocco  housewife, 
and  Miss  Raleigh  ran  away. 

This  was  not  Mrs.  Spence's  first  winter 
in  Washington   by  any  means.       She   had 
[182] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

entered  Major  Spence's  claim  shortly  after 
peace  had  been  declared.  Dissatisfied  with 
her  lawyer  because  he  gave  his  services, 
because  he  was  young,  and  because  she  had 
known  Sammy  Pleasants  ever  since  he  was 
born  —  perhaps,  also,  because  Sammy  Pleas- 
ants  had  known  Major  Spence —  she  had 
taken  another.  This  individual  had  been 
succeeded  by  a  third.  And  then,  on  con 
tingent  fees,  had  passed  a  procession  of 
claim  agents.  The  difficulties,  the  doubts, 
the  disappointments,  the  defeats,  had  shaken 
her.  Or  had  they  shaken  the  plantation  ? 
For  it  had  lately  stretched  its  borders,  and 
Mrs.  Spence  had  spoken  of  it  as  if  it  were 
possibly  a  thousand  acres,  and  the  soil  had 
penetrated  all  of  eighty  feet  toward  the 
earth's  centre. 

"  Of  course,"  Mrs.  Spence  said,  "  if  it  were 
not  a  big  affair  Major  Spence's  name  would 
not  be  connected  with  it.  And  the  oppor 
tunities  it  afforded  him  of  doing  good ! 
Oh,  I  am  sure  he  improved  them ! " 

Mrs.  McQueen  had  met  Mrs.  Spence  two 
or  three  years  before  this,  in  the  parlor  at 
Willard's,  where  the  little  woman  was  call- 
[183] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

ing  on  a  grand  lady  in  the  hope  of  securing 
her  influence  with  some  of  those  in  author 
ity.  Mrs.  McQueen,  who  was  waiting  to  see 
the  clerk  for  the  purpose  of  letting  her  rooms 
to  any  overflow  of  his  guests,  heard  the  soft 
rustle  of  the  old  silk  and  was  attracted  by 
the  sweetness  of  a  small,  pale  face  with  eyes 
like  two  drops  of  midnight  dew,  and  by  the 
refinement  of  the  tone  in  which  the  bell 
boy  had  been  addressed  ;  possibly,  also,  by 
the  presence  of  the  imposing  colored  man, 
who  stood  with  folded  arms  at  a  respectful 
distance. 

The  grand  lady  of  the  hour  kept  Mrs. 
Spence  waiting,  and  Mrs.  McQueen  made 
room  for  her  at  the  fire.  And  when  she 
had  acknowledged  the  courtesy,  and  Mrs. 
McQueen,  herself  a  timid  creature,  had  re 
assured  her,  somehow  Mrs.  Spence  found 
herself  launched  upon  the  story  of  her 
wrongs. 

"  If,"  said  the  soft  voice,  with  its  lingering 
undertone  of  melancholy,  "  it  had  been  ju/»t 
the  fortune  of  wah  I  should  accept  it.  But 
it  was  not  wah.  You  belong,  perhaps,  to 
the  more  Nohthe'n  people,  and  I  will  not  say 
[184] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

too  much.  Yet  even  our  servants  —  no,  no, 
it  would  be  rude.  But  the  house  to  which 
Major  Spence  brought  me  when  I  was  a  bride 
—  the  beautiful  old  house  where  I  had  such 
happiness  —  to  see  it  make  a  bonfire  before 
my  face  ! "  The  tears  overflowed  her  eyes 
while  she  spoke,  as  dew  overflows  a  flower. 

"  It  is  shameful ! "  assented  Mrs.  Mc 
Queen.  "  There  should  be  full  payment." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  do  not  ask  payment  for  that. 
Beau  and  the  others  put  out  the  fire.  There 
came  a  Nohther  with  a  cloud-burst,  too.  I 
do  not  ask  restitution  ;  I  would  not  accept  it. 
Money,"  said  the  little  person,  with  an  inde 
scribable  dignity,  "  could  not  repay  me  for 
such  loss,  for  such  irreverence  to  the  mem 
ory  of  Major  Spence.  They  tore  down  my 
curtains — they  were  draperies  that  Major 
Spence's  father  bought  in  Paris  after  the 
sack  of  the  Tuileries.  But  we  would  have 
restored  them  if  we  had  known  how.  They 
tossed  his  books  into  the  fire  —  the  books 
Major  Spence  took  such  pleasure  in  reading 
aloud,  as  we  sat  with  the  lamps  inside  the 
mosquito-house.  He  was  a  beautiful  reader, 
and  there  were  many  occasions  when  we 
[185] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

were  quite  by  ourselves,  especially  after 
Major  Spence  had  been  over  in  New  Orleans 
dining  with  friends  and  was  not  feeling  quite 
up  to  the  mark.  They  shrivelled  in  the  fire 
- '  The  Spectator,'  <  The  Life  of  Dr.  John 
son,'  <  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,'  <  The  Com 
plete  Works  of  Lord  Byron/  '  The  Historical 
Plays  of  William  Shakespeare.'  Oh,  there 
were  more  than  fifty  of  them !  And  they 
broke  up  my  piano  —  the  piano  where  I 
used  to  play  to  Major  Spence  in  the  twi 
light  !  I  can  see  him  now  with  the  tear  on 
his  cheek  when  I  sang  '  Oft  in  the  Stilly 
Night.'  Major  Spence  was  very  sensitive  - 
the  music,  the  hour,  the  breath  of  the  cape 
jessamines.  He  was  a  little  older  than  I. 
He  sometimes  regretted  —  he  had  no  one  to 
direct  his  youth  —  I  mean  —  it  affected  him 
to  think  I  might  be  left  alone.  He  told 
Beau,  my  negro  man  there,  not  to  lose  sight 
of  me  in  a  waking  hour.  It  is  because  the 
place  was  the  home  of  Major  Spence,  and 
the  home  of  his  father,  that  I  feel  as  I  do. 
As  for  me,  a  woman  endures  much.  But 
I  was  the  wife  of  Major  Spence ;  I  am 
his  relict.  There  are  rights  and  properties 
[186] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

belonging  to  Major  Spence's  wife,  and  the 
claim  I  am  making  is  for  the  destruction  of 
his  crops  and  stores.  But  I  find  it  difficult 
to  secure  justice  without  influence." 

The  grand  dame  dismissed  Mrs.  Spence 
with  scant  ceremony,  and  Mrs.  McQueen 
overtook  and  went  along  with  her.  She  was 
crying  softly.  "Oh,  if  Major  Spence  were 
living,"  she  exclaimed,  finding  her  friendly 
listener  beside  her,  "  she  would  not  have 
spoken  in  that  manner !  We  used  to  go 
over  to  New  Orleans  every  winter  and  stay 
at  the  St.  Charles  ourselves ;  and  not  a 
gentleman  in  the  big  rotunda  but  felt  flat 
tered  if  Major  Spence  invited  him  to  —  to 
join  him.  Not,  I  beg  you  to  believe,  that 
Major  Spence  was  a  drinking  man ;  but 
among  gentlemen —  you  know.  Those  days 
are  gone.  But  if  the  Government  —  oh, 
if  you  had  ever  seen  the  plantation  when 
all  the  tender  green  was  springing  far  and 
near,  and  the  mansion  was  full  of  company, 
and  Major  Spence  so  proud  and  pleased - 
so  pleased  with  me,  too ;  the  house  at  night 
lighted  in  every  room,  and  the  music  of  the 
flutes  and  fiddles  and  banjoes  (for  we  had 
[187] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

excellent  musicians  among  the  hands),  oh 
you  would  know  how  bitter  it  is  to  have 
such  pleasure  come  to  an  end  !  The  wah 
took  Major  Spence,  and  we  could  never 
have  the  sweet,  gay  life  again.  But  if  I 
might  only  stay  where  I  had  it,  and  call  its 
ghosts  about  me  -  -  Ah  !  there  is  my  lawyer 
coming;  pray  excuse  me,  or  may  I  intro 
duce  him  —  Mr.  Pleasants  ?  His  father  was 
one  of  the  Government  agents  in  the  re 
moval  of  the  Seminoles.  Mr.  Pleasants  is 
a  scion  of  one  of  our  very  first  families." 

Mr.  Pleasants  was  a  pallid,  slender  youth, 
with  an  eager,  smiling  face,  full  of  the  de 
sire  to  help.  He  afterwards  came  to  lodge 
with  Mrs.  McQueen.  But  by  that  time 
he  had  been  replaced  in  Mrs.  Spence's  ser 
vices  by  an  oily  and  untidy  individual  in 
oily  and  untidy  clothes,  who  had  a  way 
of  lurking  around  corners  and  of  wiping 
his  lips  furtively,  as  if  conscious  of  too 
recent  refreshments. 

"  Very  eminent,  I  assure  you,"  Mrs. 
Spence  had  whispered  once,  meeting  Mrs. 
McQueen  again.  "  Of  course,  in  the  cele 
brated  case  of  Pinmoney  versus  Alimony  he 
[188] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

is  reticent ;  but  it  was  he  who  advised  in  the 
successful  prosecution  of  the  Government's 
right  to  the  Wigwam  Lands." 

Possibly  some  portion  of  the  Wigwam 
Lands  still  clung  to  the  adviser's  personality. 
But  his  mental  processes  were  not  apparently 
nicer.  "  They  have  an  itching  palm,  these 
congressmen,"  he  was  saying. 

"  But,  Mr.  Jannon,"  she  was  replying,  "  I 
am  not  willing  to  propose  any  motive  of 
self-interest  to  those  who  have  the  lofty 
responsibility  —  " 

"  Don't  misunderstand  me,  madame,"  Mr. 
Jannon  interrupted.  "  You  will  not  suspect 
me  of  that.  The  crude  is  not  always  neces 
sary.  But  there  are  expenses  —  legitimate 
—  I  promise  you.  A  lunch,  an  invitation  to 
the  bar,  a  paper  to  be  copied  — 

"  Well,  well,  if  it  is  not  a  question  of  any 
impropriety,  I  know  Major  Spence  would 
want  the  case  presented  in  the  most  gentle 
manly  way.  And  I  will  have  - 

"  The  money  ! " 

She  hesitated  at  the  bold  word.     "  Yes ; 
this  evening.     But  you  know  —  I  have  told 
you  —  my  means  are  very  limited." 
[189] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Mrs.  McQueen,  shy  to  suffering,  felt  it 
would  be  criminal  to  leave  the  little  lady  in 
the  hands  of  this  footpad,  and  summoned 
courage  to  speak.  Mrs.  Spence  turned  upon 
her  with  a  quick  movement  of  irritation. 
"  I  fear,"  she  said,  "  that  any  intrusion  upon 
the  affairs  of  Major  Spence-  And  Mrs. 
McQueen  drew  back  dismayed,  as  if  a  bird 
had  flown  in  her  face,  although  the  apology 
was  swift  and  quavering. 

Perhaps  the  admonition  was  useful,  how 
ever,  for  Mr.  Jannon  was  before  long  sup 
planted  by  a  jaunty  personage  of  excessive 
promises.  He  protested  that  this  great 
Government  was  not  robbing  widows  ;  the 
claim  would  be  allowed  in  its  entirety  when 
properly  presented,  and  he  asked  nothing 
till  then.  Of  course,  there  were  items  of 
expenditure  requiring  attention,  but  in  the 
aggregate  of  such  a  property  they  were  only 
a  temporary  inconvenience,  and  then  capi 
talists  could  easily  be  interested  in  restoring 
affairs.  And  for  a  time  Mrs.  Spence  trod 
on  air.  She  indulged  herself  in  one  or 
two  extravagances  —  a  new  binding  for  her 
skirt,  a  dime  to  a  blind  beggar,  a  flask  of 
[190] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

Farina  cologne,  the  elegant  perfume  of  her 
youth. 

"Don't  talk  to  me,  Captain  Pleasants," 
she  said,  when  the  young  man  from  whose 
hands  she  had  long  since  taken  her  case  ven 
tured  to  renew  his  advice.  "  Mr.  Bumble- 
combe  is  my  attorney.  He  is  a  man  of  the 
proudest  honor." 

"Dear  Mrs.  Spence,"  said  young  Pleas- 
ants,  "what  has  his  honor  to  do  with  the 
Government  ? " 

"  He  has  pledged  it  that  —  " 

"  I  suppose  he  carries  the  United  States 
in  his  pocket ! " 

"  Sammy  Pleasants,"  cried  Mrs.  Spence, 
in  an  exasperation,  fluttering  all  her  dra 
peries,  "  I  shall  not  come  for  an  opinion  to  a 
boy  I  rocked  in  his  cradle." 

"  All  right,  Mrs.  Spence  ;  we  won't  talk 
of  it.  I  am  going  across  to  Harvey's  for 
some  steamed  oysters  ;  won't  you  come  with 
me  ?  If  you  won't  take  mine,  I  want  your 
advice." 

Mrs.  Spence  did  not  hesitate.  Her  break 
fast  had  been  a  biscuit,  and  her  dinner  would 
be  another,  although  terrapin  and  cham- 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

pagne  might  figure  at  Mr.  Bumblecombe's 
repast ;  and  steamed  oysters  were  inviting. 
Going  into  a  restaurant  with  Sammy  Pleas- 
ants,  too,  would  have  been  foreign  to  the 
custom  of  her  earlier  day,  but  it  was  not 
that  which  hindered  her.  Sammy  Pleasants, 
she  was  sure,  had  very  little  more  in  his 
pockets  than  she  had  in  her  small  bag,  and 
not  for  a  banquet  dressed  by  Michael  Scott 
would  she  have  impinged  on  that  little  more. 
Moreover,  she  was  banqueting  on  expecta 
tion,  and  hope  and  joy  were  her  convives. 

"  Thank  you,  Sammy,"  she  said  gently ; 
"  some  time  I  may  look  for  the  pleasure  of 
lunching  with  you  at  Beaumarais,  but  to 
day  I  have  an  appointment.  Good-morning. 
I  hope  you  will  enjoy  the  oysters."  And 
she  went  on,  hungry  but  content. 

When  Sammy  Pleasants  next  met  Mrs. 
Spence  she  was  looking  less  blithe.  Indeed, 
she  was  very  downcast. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  I  hardly  think 
Major  Spence  would  have  me  submit  to 
these  trials.  If  I  had  anything  but  the 
plantation  and  the  claim  I  should  be  tempted 
to  drop  the  whole  business." 
[192] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

"  The  best  day's  work  you  could  possibly 
do,  Mrs.  Spence,"  emphatically  said  the  un 
compromising  Sammy. 

"  It  is  the  alternations,"  she  continued, 
feeling  the  relief  of  her  slender  plaint,  "  that 
are  so  wearying.  Still,"  she  added,  brighten 
ing,  "  there  is  always  some  blue  in  the  sky. 
I  can't  tell  you  the  pleasure  it  recently  gave 
me  to  receive  an  anonymous  letter —  and 
you  know  we  do  not  think  well  of  anony 
mous  letters  usually  —  speaking  most  appre 
ciatively  of  Major  Spence,  and  inclosing  a 
ten-dollar  treasury  note  as  part  payment  of 
an  old  obligation." 

Sammy  Pleasants'  face  was  as  pink  as  a 
peach. 

•'  Some  debt  of  honor,  I  suppose,"  she  said. 
"  You  know  that  Major  Spence  often  lost 
quite  considerable  sums  at  cards ;  often,  in 
the  kindness  of  his  great  heart,  to  some  one 
who  could  not  otherwise  be  helped." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Spence,"  said  Sammy,  feeling 
himself  watched  narrowly,  "  the  Major  loved 
his  jack-pot." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  understand  you," 
with  gentle  austerity. 
13  [  193  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Why,  but  you  just  said  so  yourself,  Mrs. 
Spence." 

"  I  did  ?  However,  the  colloquialisms  of 
the  day  are  very  expressive." 

"They  seem  to  cover  a  great  deal  of 
ground,"  said  Sammy. 

"  I  thought  at  first,"  she  resumed,  "  before 
reading  the  letter,  that  the  United  States 
treasury  people  did  not  know  of  Major 
Spence's  death  —  although  I  can  hardly 
realize  such  ignorance  of  important  occur 
rences —  and  had  sent  him  the  note  as  a 
specimen  of  fine  engraving.  I  feared  then, 
afterward,  that  a  greenback,  as  I  think  they 
call  it,  might  not  be  good  money.  But  I 
took  advice.  And  it  was  so  satisfactory  to 
offer  it  as  a  retaining  fee  —  " 

"  Has  Mr.  —  Mr.  Bumblecombe  - 

"  Oh,  Sammy  Pleasants,  you  were  quite 
right  about  Mr.  Bumblecombe !  He  is  no 
longer  my  adviser.  He  —  he  was  not  a 
gentleman.  Now  Colonel  Sharkey  —  " 

"  Mrs.  Spence !  You  don't  mean  to  say 
old  Sharkey  —  " 

"  I  can't  allow  you  to  proceed,"  holding 
up  a  shabby  little  forbidding  hand.  "  I 
[194] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

hardly  know  why  you  feel  so  much  at  liberty 
to  criticise  my  choice  of  counsel.  Colonel 
Sharkey  is  —  is  an  old  acquaintance.  And 
he  is  —  he  is  most  respectable." 

Close-shaven,  erect,  pompous ;  his  coat 
not  new,  but  brushed  and  buttoned  ;  his 
linen  not  new,  either,  but  pared  on  the  edges 
and  white ;  his  hat  also  not  new,  but  once 
tall  and  shining ;  and  his  manners,  more 
over,  not  new,  but  severe,  as  ill  befits  those 
that  go  down  on  the  great  deep  of  politics, 
Colonel  Sharkey  was  trying  to  make  his 
way  under  unfamiliar  conditions.  Recon 
ciled  to  the  conqueror,  he  had  taken  the 
iron-clad  oath,  and  now  took  also  whatever 
came  in  his  way.  And  the  ten-dollar  treas 
ury  note  with  which  Sammy  Pleasants  had 
meant  to  make  Mrs.  Spence  glad  had  done 
double  duty,  and  had  made  Colonel  Sharkey 
glad  too. 

Another  summer  had  passed,  when  Mrs. 
McQueen,  being  in  the  Capitol,  and  pass 
ing  the  senatorial  reception-room,  saw  Mrs. 
Spence  sitting  on  the  edge  of  one  of  the 
sofas  there,  sadness  and  fatigue  marking  her 
worn  little  face,  and  her  crapes  limper  than 
[  195  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

ever.  Hating  her  own  errand,  her  heart 
palpitating  at  anything  of  the  sort,  Mrs. 
McQueen  was  glad  of  an  excuse  for  delay. 

"  I  hope  your  affairs  are  prospering,"  she 
said,  as,  after  the  greeting,  Mrs.  Spence, 
with  ceremonious  graciousness,  made  room 
beside  herself. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Spence.  "  It  seems  that 
a  great  government  like  this  —  although  I 
understand  the  United  States  never  does 
pay  interest,"  she  interpolated,  with  some 
irrelevant  mental  process,  "cannot  stop  to 
render  justice  to  a  woman.  Possibly  it  con 
ceives  that  it  is  dealing  not  with  a  woman, 
but  with  a  man.  And  a  man  of  Major 
Spence's  prominence,  a  landowner  on  so 
large  a  scale,  an  officer  of  the  Confederacy2 
-I  do  not  allow  myself  to  doubt  that 
Major  Spence's  claim  will  eventually  be 
recognized." 

"  Oh,"  murmured  Mrs.  McQueen,  in  her 
pretty,  breathless  way,  "  I  do  hope  so  !  " 

"But  it  is  unpleasant,"  Mrs.  Spence  con 
tinued,  "  to  find  one's  self  among  the 
women  who  make  a  business  of  calling  out 
the  senators.  Sometimes  I  think  they  are 
[196] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

not  —  not  in  good  taste  ;  but  then  1  am  not 
a  judge,  I  acknowledge.  I  never  exactly 
saw  what  Major  Spence  found  to  admire  in 
those  young  Creole  —  I  mean  -  However, 
that  is  neither  here  nor  there."  Her  face 
grew  darker. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  McQueen,  quickly.  "  I 
came  myself  to  collect  some  money  due  me, 
and  I  know  how  painful  - 

"  I  am  trusting,"  said  Mrs.  Spence,  reas 
sured  by  the  sympathy,  "  to  secure  assistance 
from  Senator  Sumner.  I  am  afraid  I  may 
have  worn  out  my  own  people.  It  is  dis 
agreeable  and  hard  to  solicit  favors  from  the 
enemy  —  the  conquering  enemy  ;  yet  I  feel 
it  due  to  Major  Spence  that  I  should  leave 
no  stone  unturned.  The  claim  has  already 
been  mentioned  in  the  newspapers.  It  has 
acquired  a  national  importance,  and  so  I 
have  sent  my  card  to  Senator  Sumner." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  don't  know  that  Mr. 
Sumner  never  receives  cards  in  the  Senate 
chamber,"  said  Mrs.  McQueen.  "  It  is 
really  of  no  use.  Won't  you  go  with  me  on 
my  errand,  and  then  come  home  and  lunch  ? 
It  would  give  me  such  pleasure." 
[197] 


O L D    WASHINGTON 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Spence,  "this  is 
not  my  hour  for  lunching,  thank  you.  And 
do  you  suppose  I  have  been  all  this  time 
busy  with  affairs  not  to  know  more  about 
them  than  —  than  another  ?  Perhaps  the 
Senator  does  not  see  every  one.  But  the 
widow  of  Major  Spence,  of  Mississippi,  will 
hardly  be  refused.  Not,  my  dear,"  seeing 
the  flush  on  Mrs.  McQueen's  cheek,  "that 
I  do  not  appreciate  your  kindly  intention. 
But  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  Senator  — 
Must  you  go  ?  Good-morning." 

Mrs.  McQueen  had  troubles  of  her  own, 
and  she  did  not  see  Mrs.  Spence  again  until 
one  day  in  the  spring,  when  she  came  across 
her  in  the  market.  The  market  was  even 
then  a  wonderful  place,  with  birds  and  game 
and  crisp  green  things,  the  outside  haunted 
by  the  old  mammies,  whose  dark  faces  under 
the  silver  halos  of  their  wiry  hair  would 
have  been  weird  but  for  the  dancing  smiles 
and  for  the  voluble  sweet  voices  in  which 
they  cried  their  wares,  "  Heah  yo'  ar', 
honey  ;  heah  's  yo'  vi  'lets,  hens  an'  roosters," 
wild  pansies  being  the  latter  variety.  "  Yo' 
be  still,  now,  Abe  Tollifer,  befo'  de  ladies ! " 
[198] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

as  a  bareheaded  and  barefooted  imp  turned 
somersaults  in  their  path. 

"  I  like  to  come  down  here  occasionally," 
said  Mrs.  Spence,  looking  at  Mrs.  McQueen's 
basket  apologetically.  "It  seems  pleasant 
to  hear  the  old  voices.  I  feel  at  home  when 
I  see  the  people ;  they  speak  so  affection 
ately.  These  aunties  with  their  bandannas, 
these  old  uncles  with  their  silver-bowed 
specs  —  it  brings  back  the  dear  days  of  just 
a  little  while  ago,  and  yet  so  far,  so  far 
away  !  Major  Spence  seems  walking  beside 
me  here.  And  then  —  then,  you  know,  I 
have  to  be  sparing.  The  lawyers,  the  costs 
—  anything  of  a  large  nature  so  taxes  one's 
means.  And  so  I  like  to  come  here  and 
just  look  at  the  delicious  things.  Those 
birds  in  their  shining  feathers  —  I  can  see 
Major  Spence  coming  home  with  a  string  of 
them  across  his  rifle.  Beau's  wife  dresses 
them  so  delicately.  And  those  oranges ! 
What  basketfuls  they  carried  on  their  heads 
and  tumbled  down  !  Major  Spence  was  so 
fond  of  eating  one  on  his  fork,  peeled  and 
dipped  in  sugar.  Oh,  how  many  a  morning 
whole  branches  of  the  blossoming  trees  have 
[199] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

been  brought  in,  filling  the  house  with 
sweetness !  We  used  to  be  rowed  down 
the  South  Fork,  to  come  back  with  the 
boat  filled  with  the  orange  flowers.  Nanny 
distilled  from  them  a  bitter  water  that  was 
very  refreshing.  Oh,  me !  Well,  well,  we 
never  can  recover  the  old  days.  They 
belonged  to  other  people  —  the  young,  the 
happy.  If  1  go  back  to  Mississippi  I  shall 
not  find  Major  Spence  there.  And  I  really 
don't  know  how  I  am  going  to  stay  here." 

She  started  and  looked  about  as  if  some 
one  had  spoken,  and  then  she  became  aware 
that  she  was  thinking  aloud,  and  she  colored 
like  a  girl. 

"  Mrs.  Spence,"  said  her  listener,  her  voice 
trembling  with  eagerness,  "  you  're  going  to 
come  home  with  me  and  stay  with  me  and 
share  with  me.  It  is  only  a  hall  chamber, 
but  that  shall  be  your  own.  When  the 
claim  is  allowed  you  can  pay  me.  Oh,  yes, 
indeed ! "  as  the  little  black-gloved  hands, 
showing  all  their  patching  and  darning, 
waved  agitated  refusal.  "  We  're  going  to 
have  mock-turtle  soup  and  venison ; "  and 
Mrs.  McQueen's  glance,  following  Beau's, 
[200] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    W o M A N 

fell  on  an  opossum  hanging  by  its  heels. 
"  And  an  opossum  !  "  she  whispered,  making 
a  sign  to  the  keeper  of  the  stall.  "  Now, 
you  come  right  along,  dear,  and  I  think  I 
can  find  some  work  for  Beau  about  the 
house.  A  man-servant  does  give  an  air 
to  a  place ;  so,  really,  you  '11  be  helping  me, 
you  see."  And  suddenly  collapsing,  Mrs. 
Spence  suffered  herself  to  be  led  along, 
Mrs.  McQueen  astonished  at  her  own  cour 
age,  but  tucking  the  tiny  hand  under  her 
arm  and  hurrying  on ;  Beau  glad  enough  to 
go  for  the  slender  properties. 

Mrs.  McQueen  brought  a  cup  of  the 
mock-turtle  soup  to  the  new  lodger  as  soon 
as  she  was  installed.  Then  Mrs.  Spence  lay 
down,  pulling  the  spare  blanket  over  her, 
and  fell  asleep.  And  although  they  looked 
in  on  her  more  than  once  she  did  not  awake 
until  the  next  morning. 

"  Now,"  she  said  triumphantly,  "  I  can 
go  about  my  work  with  fresh  spirit.  And 
when  Major  Spence's  claim  is  allowed,  you 
may  be  sure  —  you  may  be  sure,  my  dear, 
dear  Mrs.  McQueen,  that  you  shall  never 
have  another  solicitude." 
[201] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  I  can't  tell  you,"  said  Mrs.  McQueen 
to  her  young  son,  Archie,  who  had  more 
regard  for  business  than  she  herself  pos 
sessed,  "  what  it  is  to  me  to  know  she  has 
a  good  bed  and  enough  to  eat,  poor  dear !  " 

Enough  to  eat !  If  Major  Spence's  relict 
-  to  whom  sympathy  was  the  bread  of  life 
—  had  overheard  those  words  she  would 
have  starved  to  death  in  her  garret  before 
coming.  But  she  did  not  hear,  and  the 
opossum  was  not  cooked  until  the  next 
day ;  and  although  some  of  the  boarders 
were  disrespectful  to  the  dish,  Mrs.  Spence 
thought  she  herself  had  never  enjoyed  any 
thing  more  than  the  delicately  succulent 
morsel,  which  was  all  she  would  have  on 
her  plate ;  and  the  way  Miss  Celeste  Dreer 
took  to  it  warmed  her  heart.  A  goodly 
portion,  however,  went  to  the  kitchen,  much 
to  Beau's  delectation. 

"  Would'n'  de  Major  smack  his  lips  ober 
dis  yer ! "  he  exclaimed,  growing  expansive. 
"  Dere  's  nott'n  beats  a  'possum's  paw,  he 
useter  say,  'ceptin'  anoder  'possum's  paw. 
'Pears  like,"  he  added  on  his  own  account, 
"  a  roas'  angel  'd  tas'e  jes'  dis  a- way." 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

Tolly,  who,  coming  to  see  the  Conroys, 
often  gave  Mrs.  McQueen  a  day's  accommo 
dation  in  the  kitchen,  turned  on  him  with 
her  basting-spoon.  "  Huccom  yo'  know  so 
much  'bout  dese  yer  hebinly  powers  ? "  she 
cried.  "  Seen  'em  t'ick  as  owls  down  in 
dose  woods  an'  swamps,  I  reckon.  Dis  ain' 
no  place  for  'em.  Dis  dish  jes'  plain  'pos 
sum.  De  angels  don'  hab  nott'n  be'r  ! " 

"  When  you  come  to  see  me  in  Missis 
sippi,"  Mrs.  Spence  had  previously  said  to 
the  young  ladies  opposite  her,  and  to  whom 
she  had  been  introduced  in  the  parlor,  "  you 
shall  have  'possum  dressed  as  the  negroes 
have  it.  I  see  that  you  enjoy  it,  my  dear," 
to  Miss  Raleigh.  "  Not  that  it  would  be 
any  nicer  than  this.  Everything  is  most 
delicious  on  this  table.  But  each  place  has 
its  own  customs,  and  Major  Spence  made  an 
occasion  of  his  'possum  feasts." 

And  of  course  these  young  ladies  felt  as 
if  their  especial  protection  belonged  to  Mrs. 
Spence  until  they  should  go  to  Mississippi, 
and  they  vied  with  each  other  in  giving  it. 

Day  by  day  Miss  Sarah  and  Miss  Raleigh 
listened  to  the  stories  told  by  Mrs.  Spence. 
[203] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

And  by  and  by  they  took  the  liberty  of 
looking  out  for  her  clothes ;  little  by  little 
they  replaced  certain  of  them  —  the  veil, 
the  ribbons,  the  gloves.  "  It  does  appear 
like  I  had  been  dreaming,"  said  Mrs.  Spence 
once.  "  These  are  certainly  my  gloves.  But 
I  reckon  I  must  have  dreamed  there  were 
holes  I  had  mended  in  them.  I  never  did 
get  such  a  heap  of  wear  out  of  anything. 
I  used  n't  to  wear  gloves  much  at  Beauma- 
rais,  except  in  the  saddle.  Major  Spence, 
of  course,  wore  riding-gloves  —  he  rode  so 
constantly  about  the  place ;  the  distances 
on  our  large  plantations  are  so  enormous, 
and  not  without  their  dangers.  Once  we 
were  riding  —  it  startles  me  now  to  recall 
it  —  in  a  far  corner  of  his  property,  some 
land  that  had  lately  been  left  him  in  a  more 
northerly  State.  And  going  in  among  the 
tall  canes,  suddenly  all  the  silent  world  about 
us  seemed  filled  with  great  naked  tree-boughs, 
moving  barebranched  trees  rising  and  toss 
ing,  all  alive  !  We  felt  as  though  the  earth 
were  turned  upside  down.  And  the  next 
instant  there  was  nothing  there ;  all  was 
empty  green  canebrake  and  blue  sky. 
[204] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

They  were  elks,  you  know  ;  a  herd  that 
had  wandered  that  way  and  were  resting 
in  the  reeds.  Major  Spence  had  lost  the 
haft  of  his  hunting-knife,  and  the  only 
weapon  he  had  was  the  blade ;  and  except 
for  his  riding-glove  he  couldn't  have  han 
dled  that.  It  makes  me  shudder  now, 
though  I  reckon  those  vanishing  deer  were 
the  most  frightened.  Major  Spence  was 
never  afraid  of  anything.  Once  -  But, 
my  dears,  I  don't  want  to  tire  you  with 
my  recollections  —  " 

"  Oh,  you  could  n't,  Mrs.  Spence  ! "  they 
cried. 

"  Major  Spence  could  not,  I  am  aware," 
she  said.  "  He  had  such  a  range  of  sub 
jects.  He  loved  to  amuse  children  with 
his  adventures.  He  certainly  was  good  to 
young  and  old.  I  think  the  Lord  must 
remember  that.  Oh,  my  dears,  he  took 
me  out  of  a  convent,  where  I  had  learned 
nothing  but  fine  sewing  and  painting  by 
theorems,  and  taught  me  all  I  know ! " 

"Did  he!" 

"  I  remember  when  I  came  to  the  plan 
tation,  after  the  convent,  how  it  seemed 
[205] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

like  I  had  two  wings  —  life  was  so  sweet, 
so  fresh,  so  beautiful !  He  was  so  great,  so 
kind.  I  had  such  pretty  clothes,  too,  my 
dears.  He  —  he  gave  them  to  me.  I  wish 
you  had  seen  my  wedding  bonnet.  He 
bought  it  in  New  Orleans  when  we  first 
went  over.  I  -  -  I  am  almost  ashamed  to 
teh1  you,  but  we  —  we  were  a  runaway 
couple.  It  was  very  wrong.  At  least  — 
oh,  we  were  very  happy !  It  was  made  of 
white  uncut  velvet,  with  wide  white  satin 
ribbons  and  a  great  ostrich  plume,  and  a 
wreath  of  little  white  roses  and  green  leaves 
inside,  and  a  blonde-lace  veil  that  fell  to  my 
knees.  Major  Spence  said  —  but  it  would 
sound  like  I  was  too  vain  if  I  told  you. 
But  I  always  remembered  !  Oh,  my  good 
ness  !  would  you  believe  it  ?  once  there  were 
five  little  kittens  born  in  that  bonnet.  My 
dears,  I  am  afraid  I  have  shocked  you  - 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  Mrs.  Spence  ! "  cried  Raleigh. 

"  I  wish  I  had  one  of  those  kittens  now," 
said  Miss  Sarah. 

"  My  love  !     It  would  be  such  an  old,  old 
cat ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Spence,  with  a  reminis 
cent  shake  of  her  head. 
[206] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

That  night,  when  Miss  Sarah  stood  before 
the  mirror  loosening  her  braids,  Miss  Raleigh 
looking  on,  "  My,  what  hair  you  have,  and 
you  a  No'the'ner  !  "  said  Miss  Raleigh.  "  It 's 
blue-black." 

"  Carthaginian,"  replied  Miss  Sarah.  "  And 
fit  for  bowstrings." 

"  Bowstrings  !  Then  /  ought  to  have  had 
it,  not  you.  You  women  up  No'th  didn't 
have  to  give  your  hair  or  anything  else." 

Miss  Sarah  brushed  her  hair  for  awhile  so 
that  she  swept  sparks  out  of  it.  "Do  you 
know,"  she  said  then,  "  I  think  you  're  very 
amiable.  You  were  whipped,  and  yet  you 
don't  seem  to  have  the  rancor  I  should 
have." 

"Whipped?  Who?  We?  We  were  n't 
whipped.  You  were  whipped." 

"We?     We!" 

"  Oh,  you  '11  find  out  by  and  by.  The 
principles  that  were  your  salvation  went 
under.  You  won't  see  him  just  yet,  but 
you  brought  the  man  on  horseback  two  or 
three  hundred  years  nearer.  You  think  you 
ruined  the  Sooth.  You  really  ruined  the 
No'th  too." 

[207] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  're  talking 
about ! " 

"  I  'm  talking  about  State  rights,  and  Fed 
eral  power,  and  great  fortunes  growing  out 
of  wah,  and  monopolies,  and  the  love  of 
splendor,  and  the  love  of  conquest.  You  '11 
never  be  satisfied  now  till  you  annex  all  the 
islands  of  the  seas  —  " 

"  You  're  tremendously  in  earnest ! " 

"  One  gets  in  earnest  when  giving  up  so 
much  for  her  country  as  I  have." 

"  I  gave  my  brother,"  said  Miss  Sarah, 
presently,  with  a  catch  in  her  voice. 

"So  did  I." 

"  Was  he  —  " 

"  Killed  ?  My  word !  I  should  say  Johnny 
knew  better  than  to  have  himself  killed." 

"  My  brother  was,"  said  Miss  Sarah,  turn 
ing  with  shining  eyes. 

There  was  a  silence.  "  Oh  !  "  cried  Ra 
leigh  then,  throwing  her  arms  around  Miss 
Sarah's  neck  and  kissing  her  on  both  cheeks. 
"  I  know  how  I  should  feel !  And  there 
were  splendid  fellows  on  your  side.  I 
remember  - 

"  And  so  there  were  on  yours,"  Miss  Sarah 
[208  ] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

interrupted,  answering  the  gaze  of  the  sky- 
blue  eyes  in  the  glass.  "  Once  when  the 
—  the  Confederates,  then  —  had  made  a 
charge  and  had  been  repulsed,  and  our 
line  lay  there,  monstrous,  impregnable  - 

"  That 's  right.     Just  pile  it  on,  honey." 

"  Well,  a  company  came  furiously  on,  just 
in  front  of  Paul  —  my  brother  Paul,  you 
know,"  said  Miss  Sarah.  "  And  suddenly 
the  men  broke  and  ran  —  " 

"  I  don't  believe  it !  " 

"  They  'd  have  been  too  simple  if  they 
had  n't.  But  their  captain  —  he  was  a  young 
fellow,  a  fair-haired  young  fellow,  straight 
and  tall,  with  an  eye  like  an  eagle  —  he 
was  far  in  advance  of  his  men,  calling  them 
on,  running,  waving  his  sword.  And  all  at 
once  he  stopped  and  looked  around,  and 
there  he  was,  alone  on  the  field  and  a 
thousand  rifles  waiting  for  him.  " 

"Oh!" 

"  What  do  you  suppose  he  did  ?  I  de 
clare  it  was  a  magnificent  thing  !  He  never 
turned  his  back.  He  stopped  and  stood 
there  and  folded  his  arms  and  looked 
straight  at  the  enemy  and  waited  for 
i*  [  209  ] 


O L D    WASHINGTON 

death.  And  Paul  sprang  out  and  cried, 
'Don't  shoot!  Oh,  don't  shoot,  boys!5 
And  not  a  rifle  clicked.  And  that  nervy 
fellow  calmly  gave  them  the  salute  and 
turned  and  walked  back  to  find  his  men, 
deliberately,  as  if  he  picked  his  way.  And 
our  men  cheered  him.  The  whole  brigade 
cheered  him.  It  was  a  roar  bigger  than  any 
roar  of  battle,  Paul  said.  Don't  you  think 
that  was  fine  ? " 

"  Fine  !  Yes,  I  do  !  Don't  you  know  — 
oh,  of  course  you  don't !  Oh,  I  must  kiss 
you  !  I  must  tell  you !  Oh,  that  was 
Johnny ! " 

"Your  —  " 

"  They  told  me  all  about  it.     He  did  n't." 

"  Your  brother  -  -  well,  Paul  said  he 
looked  like  a  young  god." 

"  And  he  owes  his  life  —  " 

"  No.  There  was  n't  a  man  in  that  line 
would  have  fired." 

"  I  don't  believe  that,  either.  At  any 
rate,  I  choose  to  think  he  owes  his  life  to 
your  brother.  He  's  coming  here  this  week, 
and  he  '11  tell  you  so.  And  it  was  worth 
saving.  Oh,  there  never  was  so  good  a  boy 
[210] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

as  Johnny  !  He  's  my  very  ideal  of  a  knight 
of  the  days  of  chivalry,"  dancing  lightly 
about  the  room.  "  Only  he  can't  ride  free- 
booting  nowadays,  like  those  knights  did. 
And  there  's  nothing  for  him  to  do  up  in  our 
country.  And  we  do  hate  to  say  we  were 
ruined  by  the  wah  —  so  many  do,  you  'd 
think  they  had  terrapin  running  round  the 
yard  like  ladybugs.  But  oh,  so  many 
were  !  Anyway,  there  's  no  earthly  lookout 
for  him  at  home,  and  he  's  coming  here  to 
try  for  an  office." 

"  I  hope  he  won't  have  as  hard  a  time 
as  I." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  have  such 
a  time.  Have  n't  you  any  pull  ? " 

"  Pull  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  're  not  fit  for  political  life  ! 
You  don't  even  know  the  language  !  How 
ever,  I  had  n't  any  pull  myself.  I  just  went 
to  them,  and  I  told  them  I  must  have  it. 
I  did  n't  think  it  necessary  to  be  delicate. 
I  had  as  much  right  to  have  it  as  they  had 
to  give  it.  I  made  out  a  good  story  of 
course.  I  said  I  must  have  it  right  away. 
And  I  got  it." 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Oh,  you  !  I  would  like  to  see  any  one 
refuse  you  —  dimples  and  blushes  and  smiles 
and  eyes  as  blue  as  forget-me-nots  - 

"  Just  heah  you  !  " 

"Well,  I've  no  doubt  I  shall  end  by 
going  back  to  my  school.  But  I  wish  —  I 
wish  we  could  save  Mrs.  Spence  from  that 
claim  agent  before  I  go." 

"  That  claim  agent  ?  Why,  there  's  a 
dozen  of  him  !  Oh,  now,  don't  you  be  fret 
ting  on  Mrs.  Spence's  account.  I  know 
about  her.  She  is  second  cousin  to  the  wife 
of  General  Beauchamp's  brother's  uncle-in- 
law,"  checking  off  her  fingers.  "  You  wait 
till  Johnny  comes.  Those  claim  agents  will 
wish  it  was  a  nightmare  !  " 

And  when  she  was  gone  Miss  Sarah  felt 
as  if  it  had  suddenly  grown  dark  in  the  room. 

It  was  some  time  after  this  conversation 
that  Mrs.  McQueen,  loitering  with  her  boy 
for  a  breath  of  the  late  evening,  drawn  by 
the  ineffable  fragrance  of  the  grandiflora 
magnolia,  which  blew  its  heavy  gales  out  half 
a  mile  away,  was  sitting  in  the  shadows  of 
Lafayette  Square  and  watching  the  stars 
hang  through  the  branches  like  the  won- 
[212  ] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

drous  flowers  of  such  a  wondrous  perfume, 
and  feeling  the  soft  air  move  about  them 
like  a  loving,  unseen  being. 

"  If  one  were  waiting  just  outside  heaven 
it  might  be  like  this,"  breathed  a  low  voice 
beside  her  ;  and  on  the  same  bench,  in  a 
slightly  blacker  spot  of  shade,  she  recog 
nized  Mrs.  Spence. 

"You  really  think,  then,"  replied  Mrs. 
McQueen,  "  that  heaven  is  a  place,  and  with 
such  pleasures  as  this  dark,  sweet  air  ? " 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Spence,  "  I  never 
allow  myself  to  doubt  it.  Where  Major 
Spence  is  must  be  a  place." 

"  As  real  as  the  banks  of  the  Ocala." 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  can  be  pleasanter," 
she  sighed.  "  If  1  were  there  on  the  Ocala 
to-night,  the  breath  of  the  cape  jessamines  — 
the  flowers  that  Major  Spence  used  to  say 
have  a  soul  —  would  be  as  rich  as  these 
magnolias ;  there  would  come  across  it  a 
waft  of  salt  air  from  the  Gulf,  and  the 
mocking-birds  would  be  bubbling  joyously 
from  swamp  and  hollow  —  not  like  the  poor 
caged  things  they  hang  outside  the  windows 
here  to  sing  their  prison-song  at  night. 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

However,"  she  added,  after  a  quick  breath 
or  two,  "  I  shall  put  an  end  to  all  that 
presently." 

"You  mean  — "  said  Mrs.  McQueen,  as 
the  other  paused. 

"  Yes.  No  prisoners  after  I  once  give  the 
word.  When  I  freed  the  slaves  —  " 

"  You  freed  your  slaves  ?  You  never 
told  me  that." 

"  Yes ;  I  freed  all  the  slaves  in  the  United 
States,"  said  Mrs.  Spence,  quietly. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  a  little  damp 
here  ? "  asked  Mrs.  McQueen,  rising.  "  Per 
haps  we  ought  to  go.  I  'm  afraid  you  have 
not  been  sleeping  well  of  late." 

It  seemed  to  cross  Mrs.  Spence  that  she 
had  said  something  extraordinary,  and  she 
was  silent  nearly  all  the  way  home,  trying 
to  regain  herself. 

The  younger  people  had  been  sitting  on 
the  doorsteps ;  Miss  Sarah,  stately,  on  an 
upper  step  with  some  others,  but  Miss 
Raleigh,  in  a  gay  mood,  walking  down  the 
street  with  her  brother  John  —  he  also  some 
what  stately  — leaving  Captain  Pleasants  dis 
consolate  upon  the  lower  step.  Far  away, 
[214] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

as  they  strolled,  the  lamps  outlined  the 
mighty  shadows  of  the  foundation  arches  of 
the  Capitol  on  its  hill ;  they  half  divined  the 
steps  scaling  skyward,  and  the  flying  lines 
of  columns,  taking  a  touch  of  light  out  of 
the  darkness  beneath  the  dim  sublimity  of 
the  dome  in  a  mid-heaven  where  welled  the 
light  of  the  late-rising  moon.  The  moon 
shone  full  on  John's  face,  and  it  was  re 
marked  by  Miss  Raleigh,  whose  spirits  no 
sublimity  repressed,  that  his  head  might  be 
that  of  the  Winged  Victory  if  the  Nike 
were  not  both  headless  and  a  woman. 

"  Oh,  let  my  head  alone  !  "  said  John. 

"  I  'm  not  touching  it !  "  said  Raleigh. 
"  I  was  only  repeating  the  fact  that  all 
people  in  all  poetry  seem  to  play  —  let  me 
see  if  that's  right  —  seem  to  play  —  with 
the  same  fancy  ;  the  Greeks  having  a  mas 
culine  sort  of  woman-spirit  following  wah, 
the  Nike  ;  the  Norse  having  a  masculine  sort 
of  the  same,  the  Valkyrie.  And  oh,  a  lot 
more  !  You  don't  suppose  /  know  any 
thing  about  Nikes  and  Ghandarvas  !  I 
heard  her  say  it  this  morning.  And  she 
said  it  apropos  of  —  " 

[215] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"Raleigh!" 

"Of  nothing,  then!  I'm  just  ashamed 
of  you,  Johnny !  I  never  supposed  you  'd 
let  your  animosity  against  the  Nohth  blind 
you  to  the  perfectly  lovely  character  of  a 
girl-" 

"  Good  Lord,  Raleigh  ! " 

"  Yes,  she  is  perfectly  lovely  !  " 

"  I  mean  —  well  —  I  know  it ! " 

"  Then  you  did  n't  say  that  because  —  you 

did  n't  mean  —  John  Cumnor  !     Johnny  !  " 

hugging  his  arm.     "  I  might  have   known 

-it's  my  dearest  wish--  I  'm  in  love  with 

her  myself ! " 

"  One  would  suppose  a  man  fell  in  love 
to  oblige  his  sister." 

"  Is  n't  she  splendid,  John  ? " 

"  '  Grace  was  in  all  her  steps,  heaven  in 
her  eye,'  "  the  thought  ran  in  John  Cum- 
nor's  mind,  but  he  said  nothing. 

"  *  Sarah  '  means  '  princess,'  you  know," 
continued  Raleigh. 

"  Oh,  well,  it  will  only  be  love's  labor  lost 
again.  It  would  be  a  wild  audacity  —  " 

"  You  do  vex  me  !  She 's  a  woman,  is  n't 
she  ? " 

[216] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

"  She  won't  look  at  me  if  she  is." 

"  She  's  been  looking  for  you  ever  since 
her  brother  called  to  his  men  not  to  shoot 
you." 

"Great  heavens,  Raleigh,  you'd  drive  a 
man  off  his  head !  How  do  you  know 
that?" 

"  Oh,  I  just  know  it.  By  the  senses  you 
men  have  n?t  a  shred  of.  You  're  not  afraid 
to  stand  up  before  a  whole  regiment  of 
enemies,  but  you  are  scared  blue  of  a 
black-eyed  girl.  Well,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
have  some  learning  and  intelligence  in  the 
family ! " 

"  It  looks  like  it.  I  can  support  a  wife  so 
well." 

"That  will  all  come  right!"  cried  the 
reckless  Raleigh.  "  If  you  don't  get  your 
place  you  can  live  with  me  and  study  law 
in  Sammy  Pleasant's  office.  He  11  be-  doing 
very  well  after  a  little." 

"  I  study  law,  when  the  only  thing  I  'm 
fit  for  is  riding  over  a  cottonfield  or  a  to 
bacco  farm ! " 

"Other  times,  other  manners.  You're 
not  a  dunce,  and  you  can  practise  up  in  our 
[217] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

county  and  come  back  here  a  Member. 
That  belongs  in  our  family.  Now,  I'm 
going  to  make  Sammy  a  little  happier,  and 
you  can  take  the  spirit  of  a  man  in  both 
hands  and  ask  Sarah  to  stroll  around  to  the 
grandiflora.  If  you  don't  I'll  do  it  for 
you ! " 

As  Miss  Raleigh  said,  so  was  it  done. 
And  Mrs.  Spence  and  Mrs.  McQueen,  going 
homeward,  met  the  two  walking  with  great 
dignity  and  some  remoteness.  And  pres 
ently  Mrs.  McQueen  felt  Mrs.  Spence's  hand 
trembling  on  her  arm. 

"  There  are  two  young  people,"  said  Mrs. 
Spence,  "who,  I  fancy,  are  in  love.  You 
will  not  think  it  an  impropriety  if  I  say  I 
have  a  sympathy  —  oh,  my  heart,  how  happy 
I  was  once  !  Oh,  if  Major  Spence  were  liv 
ing,  what  a  pleasure  it  would  be  to  him, 
when  the  receipts  from  his  crops  came  in, 
to  make  these  two  young  people  happy ! 
My  dear,  I  am  leaning  on  you  too  heavily. 
Beau  !  Where  is  Beau  ?  Beau,  I  will  thank 
you  for  your  arm." 

Mrs.  Spence  went  wearily  to  bed  that 
night,  but  not  to  sleep.  The  street  lights 
[218] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

flickered  into  her  room  till  she  saw  visions  ; 
now  the  white  curtains  seeming  the  wings 
of  a  great  angel,  now  the  dark  window  space 
between  them  assuming  the  shape  of  Major 
Spence,  and  then  the  severer  majesty  of  a 
Supreme  Court  Justice  ;  and  later,  in  broken 
scraps  of  dream,  lawyers,  claim  agents,  treas 
ury  notes,  and  lovers  moved  before  her  eyes, 
together  with  her  once  familiar  nightmare 
of  a  time  of  hunger  where  glittering  feasts 
disappeared  as  she  would  taste,  leaving  noth 
ing  but  the  cup  whose  draught  was  bitter 
still  in  her  mouth  as  she  awoke. 

But  those  two  young  people,  sauntering 
in  the  charmed  glooms  of  Lafayette  Square, 
were  already  happy.  The  vivid  whiteness 
of  the  moonlight,  the  blackness  of  the 
shadows,  the  dark  blue  of  the  night  sky,  the 
murmur  of  the  branches  brooding  over  them, 
the  gleam  of  lights  from  the  President's 
grounds,  the  strange  sweetness  of  the  slowly 
moving  air  —  these  were  all  but  parts  of  the 
perspective  of  the  new  country  where  they 
wandered  —  that  dear  land  of  first  love. 
And  they  lingered  in  their  enchanted  paral 
lels  till  the  stroke  of  a  midnight  bell  broke 
[219] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

the  dream,  like  a  finger  piercing  a  bubble. 
For  this  girl,  with  grace  in  all  her  steps, 
heaven  in  her  eye,  this  young  giant,  who 
had  the  lost  head  of  the  Winged  Victory, 
needed  something  more  than  ambrosia  ;  and 
both  of  them  were  looking  vainly  for 
work. 

"  I  had  no  right  to  speak  to  you ! "  he 
exclaimed.  "  In  my  circumstances  it  was 
dastardly!'' 

"  It  would  have  broken  my  heart  if  you 
had  n't,"  she  replied. 

And  then  again  the  bubble  built  its  shin 
ing  walls  about  them  in  the  dark. 

Miss  Raleigh  had  been  passing  the  time 
with  Mr.  Pleasants.  "  Is  n't  Fate  the 
strangest  thing  in  the  world  ? "  she  said, 
going  up  the  stairs  later  with  Miss  Sarah. 
"  Here  it  brings  you  all  the  way  from  the 
Nohth,  and  Johnny  all  the  way  from  the 
Sooth  ;  and  you  don't  think  alike  in  any  one 
thing  ;  and  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  how  it 's 
goin'  to  do.  But  you  just  cayn't  help  your 
selves,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  And 
I'm  just  as  bad.  I  ought  to  —  marry  —  a 
Spanish  grandee  or  an  old  Roman  prince  —  " 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

"  Or  a  mediatized  king !  "  laughed  Sarah. 

"  But  I  always  knew  I  should  marry  some 
one  else.  Only  I  wonder  why  his  name  had 
to  be  —  well,  Dennis  !  I  would  have  liked 
Etienne  de  Montmorenci  so  much  better. 
But  there  it  is.  If  I  finally  do  give  in  — 
Moh  would  be  perfectly  shocked  if  she  heard 
me  talkin'  like  this  ! " 

Mrs.  McQueen  herself  carried  breakfast 
to  Mrs.  Spence.  "  Dear,"  said  Mrs.  Spence, 
letting  the  coffee  cool,  "  something  has  oc 
curred  to  me.  I  wonder  I  had  not  thought 
of  it  before.  Suddenly  I  find  that  I  have 
been  growing  old.  Indeed,  it  does  not  mat 
ter.  I  am  only  so  much  nearer  Major  Spence. 
Yet  if  he  were  here  it  might  be  unhappiness 
to  him  to  see  my  changing  color  and  fading 
eye  ;  and  to  me,  too.  I  might  even  say  that 
if  I  had  been  the  Lord  I  would  never  have 
subjected  a  woman  to  the  humiliation  of 
growing  old,  —  but  I  will  not  say  what  I 
may  regret.  I  hope  —  yes,  I  hope  Major 
Spence  will  find  that  my  soul  is  young. 
However,"  she  added,  with  a  little  laugh, 
"this  garrulous  wandering  would  betray  me, 
if  nothing  else  did.  And  that  is  n't  what  I 
[221  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

wished  to  speak  about.  I  have  been  think 
ing.  I  am  afraid,  my  dear,  that  the  agents 
have  been  wronging  me.  Not  Sammy  Pleas- 
ants.  He  never  took  any  money  from  me. 
And  he  told  me  it  was  a  far  cry  to  Loch  Ay. 
But  it  is  impossible  that  at  some  time  Major  * 
Spence's  claim  shall  not  be  allowed.  It  may 
require  years  —  more  than  my  allotted  term 
—  for  the  springs  of  life  are  failing.  And 
so,  dear,  I  am  going  to  make  my  will  and 
testament,  and  leave  the  claim  to  you." 
"  Oh  —  Mrs.  Spence  —  oh,  no  —  " 
"  It  is  due  you,"  said  Mrs.  Spence,  sol 
emnly.  "  Major  Spence  would  wish  to  ac 
knowledge  your  goodness  to  his  wife.  I 
fear  it  may  not  help  you,  dear  heart,  but  it 
will  come  in  handy  for  your  boy,  for  Archie. 
For  I  haven't  a  shadow  of  doubt  that  a 
person  of  Major  Spence's  prominence  will 
ultimately  receive  justice.  As  for  the  plan 
tation,"  -  she  had  been  speaking  very  rap 
idly  —  "  that  would  be  an  embarrassment  to 
you.  You  could  do  nothing  at  this  dis 
tance,  and  the  taxes  would  devour  all  you 
possess.  Yet  —  oh,  life  there  with  one 
whom  you  love  is  heaven  on  earth !  I 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

always  found  it  so  —  the  outdoor  blossom 
ing,  bird-singing,  bee-humming  life.  Per 
haps  some  time  Major  Spence  may  be 
permitted  to  come  and  see  the  happiness  of 
those  standing  in  his  place.  I  have  a  thou 
sand  cousins  —  I  mean  a  great  many  —  none 
very  near,  none  dear,  all  having  their  own 
holdings,  more  than  they  can  manage.  And 
so  no  one  will  be  wronged.  And  do  you 
think  Sammy  Pleasants  is  enough  of  a 
lawyer  to  do  it  ? " 

At  this  lucid  point  Beau  announced  Colo 
nel  Sharkey  in  the  parlor.  Mrs.  Spence 
went  forward,  and  then  there  was  a  stormy 
half  hour  in  that  apartment,  at  the  end  of 
which  she  withdrew  her  case  from  that  gentle 
man's  hands. 

"  I  cannot  believe,"  said  she,  in  reply  to 
his  assertion  that  a  certain  senator  of  the 
name  of  Bortle,  known  as  the  real-estate 
agent  of  the  Senate,  must  be  given  money, 
"  that  any  statement  as  to  the  necessity  of 
purchasing  a  senator's  power  is  not  a  local 
slander  that  allows  claim  agents  a  pretext  to 
wrong  their  clients.  I  may  be  speaking  too 
plainly,  but  if  the  claim  depended  on  brib- 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

ing  a  senator,  it  would  be  lost.  And  I 
haven't  a  dollar  to  do  it  with,  if  I  would. 
I  bid  you  good-day  and  good-by  ! " 

It  was  not  many  mornings  after  the  last 
interview  with  Colonel  Sharkey  that  a  little 
woman  in  black  presented  herself  at  the  door 
of  the  Diplomatic  Gallery  of  the  Senate 
Chamber.  She  had  walked  slowly  up  the 
Avenue  in  the  heat,  Beau  silent  and  solemn 
behind  her,  great  thoughts  with  her,  even  if 
jangled  and  out  of  tune.  She  had  seen  the 
dome  soaring  buoyant,  a  cloud  among  the 
clouds,  a  thin  blue  mist  about  it,  the  colon 
nades  beneath  shining  white  above  the  tree- 
tops.  She  had  said  to  herself — as  many 
times  before  —  that  history  walked  here  too  . 
that  the  gods  of  the  Republic  had  trodden 
here ;  that  Washington,  drawn  by  six  white 
horses,  had  dashed  down  the  way  in  his 
golden  chariot  painted  with  Cupids  —  and 
that  Major  Spence  might  have  had  as  many 
more  had  he  chosen.  She  had  climbed  the 
stairway ;  she  had  paused  afterwards  at  a 
southern  window  to  look  at  the  two  rivers 
—  one  shining  silver,  one  rosily  tinted  in  the 
light  —  and  at  the  pillared  Heights  of  Arling- 
[ 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

ton  as  at  a  deserted  shrine,  not  at  all  mind 
ing  that  she  had  gone  into  a  committee  room 
where  she  had  no  right ;  and  then  she  had 
slowly  pursued  her  way  with  her  thronging 
emotions. 

Perhaps  the  heat  and  the  drowsiness  had 
relaxed  the  guard  of  the  doorkeeper  ;  perhaps 
he  was  awed  by  her  air,  or  by  the  imposing 
presence  of  the  big  black  servant,  for  she 
was  admitted  without  question.  And  leav 
ing  Beau  at  the  door,  she  stepped  down  to 
the  front,  there  being  no  one  else  in  the  box, 
where,  seating  herself  and  swiftly  waving  a 
small  and  creaking  fan,  she  watched  the  pro 
ceedings.  She  was  only  a  little  old  woman 
in  rusty  black,  eager,  alert ;  but  any  one 
looking  at  her  might  have  thought  of  a  pale 
sweet  flower,  a  trifle  heavy  with  the  heat, 
about  whose  quivering  petals  a  bee  was 
darting. 

The  Senate  was  occupied  with  the  routine 
attending  the  close  of  the  session.  The  day 
was  hot ;  the  subject  was  dry  ;  the  clerk  read 
his  paragraphs  droningly  ;  some  of  the  sena 
tors  wrote  letters,  some  read  newspapers  ;  the 
pages  lolled  upon  the  steps  and  made  bets 
15  [  225  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

on  the  flies  creeping  over  various  bald  heads  ; 
there  was  a  general  sleepiness  pervading  the 
air ;  no  one  seemed  more  than  half  awake. 
No  one,  that  is,  but  Mrs.  Spence.  She  bent 
over  the  gallery,  her  face  white,  her  eyes 
glittering,  as  if  life  and  death  depended  on 
the  items  of  the  River  and  Harbor  Bill. 

Suddenly  every  one  in  that  place  was 
wide  awake  ;  the*  Sergeant-at-arms  was  on 
his  feet ;  the  Vice-President,  thunderstruck, 
gavel  uplifted,  was  staring  at  the  gallery, 
toward  which  every  head  was  turned  ;  the 
pages  forgot  the  flies  and  were  running  for 
the  doors ;  the  doorkeeper,  ready  to  avenge 
the  outraged  majesty  of  the  Senate,  came 
springing  down  the  steps  of  the  gallery,  Beau 
after  him  ;  and  Beau  had  his  mistress  in  his 
arms  and  had  carried  her  into  the  corridor. 

"  It 's  Mis'  Major  Spence,"  said  Beau,  hur 
riedly,  to  the  doorkeeper.  "The  heat,  I 
reckon,  done  onsettle  her."  For  Mrs.  Spence 
had  risen  and,  leaning  forward,  had  ex 
claimed,  her  voice  like  a  brook  purling  over 
pebbles,  but  audible  through  all  the  Chamber, 
"  I  positively  forbid  the  appropriation  of  an 
other  dollar  from  the  Treasury  of  the  United 
[226] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

States  until  the  claim  of  Major  Spence,  of 
Mississippi,  has  been  satisfied  !  "  And  then 
she  had  looked  around  in  amazement  and 
had  sunk  terrified,  but  with  a  glad  security, 
into  Beau's  great  arms. 

"  It 's  Mis'  Major  Spence,"  he  repeated, 
his  words  like  a  torrent  breaking  through  a 
dam,  as  he  bore  her  off.  "  She 's  quality. 
She 's  outdone  wid  dis  yere  heat.  Bleedzed 
ter  come  out  widout  de  bosses  —  dat  nigh 
one's  got  a  trush  in  his  lef  behin'  foot. 
Mis'  Major  Spence  is  fust  cousin  on  de 
Dandridge's  side  to  de  Prurriden.  Yo'  jes' 
call  a  kerridge,  boss,  an'  she  11  make  it  right 
for  you." 

"  Look  here  ! "  said  the  doorkeeper,  feeling 
as  if  a  bronze  statue  had  poured  forth  speech. 
"  Who 's  Major  Spence  ?  I  don't  know  any 
Major  Spence ! " 

"  Don'  know  Major  Spence  !  Why,  I  'd 
jes'  know  his  skin  upon  a  bush  !  "  cried  Beau, 
as  he  got  his  mistress  down  and  into  the 
coach.  And  when  the  doorkeeper  heard 
Beau  call  out,  "  To  de  W'ite  'us  !  "  he  thought 
it  must  be  quite  right,  and  hugged  himself 
in  the  hope  of  some  promotion  for  his  con- 
[  227  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

sideration,  and  told  the  boys  to  keep  the  in 
cident  out  of  the  papers  ;  which  the  boys  did, 
with  the  kindly  feeling  and  national  pride 
that  makes  them  cast  over  the  Executive 
Mansion,  upon  occasion,  the  cloud  in  which 
the  reporters  of  old  wrapped  Zeus. 

But  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  Beau  changed 
his  order  to  the  driver.  And  on  arriving  at 
Mrs.  McQueen's,  Mrs.  Spence  was  helped 
to  bed  and  given  a  quieting  potion,  which 
set  her  eyes  wide  open,  as  Miss  Sarah  found 
whenever  cautiously  looking  in  upon  her. 

She  was  sitting  up  in  bed  at  the  first  cock 
crow,  surrounded  by  a  litter  of  papers,  and 
the  gas  blazing  with  a  stifling  heat.  Miss 
Sarah  sequestered  the  papers,  and  coaxed  the 
little  woman  into  her  own  room,  and  put  a 
cold  compress  on  her  head,  and  sat  holding 
her  thin  hand  and  crooning  a  monotonous 
tune  until  her  listener  dozed,  although  in 
momentary  naps.  And  Miss  Sarah  was 
more  pallid  in  the  morning  than  Mrs.  Spence 
herself;  for  that  little  woman's  eyes  were 
sparkling,  and  she  seemed  bristling  with 
electric  life  in  every  nerve. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  John  Cumnor,  seeing  Sarah's 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

pale  face,  "  if  I  were  half  a  man  I  could  take 
you  out  of  this  deadly  heat  and  all  this  un 
certainty  that  is  your  undoing  and  mine 
too !  If  we  were  down  at  Pass  Christian 
this  morning,  with  the  Gulf  wind  blow 
ing-" 

"  It  is  Mrs.  Spence  who  should  be  where 
the  Gulf  wind  blows,"  said  Sarah.  "  I  am 
afraid  she  is  in  a  bad  way,  and  something 
must  be  done  - 

"  You  will  have  to  do  it,  then,  I  reckon  ; 
for  no  one  but  you  can  manage  her  —  you 
and  Beau." 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  gone  out 
with  her  this  morning.  She  seemed  so  in 
tent  and  abstracted  and  on  fire  by  turns. 
But  it  is  so  hot  —  and  I  felt  so  wilted  —  the 
air  is  so  withering  outside.  The  leaves  hang 
as  if  they  were  faint  in  it.  And  I  am  so 
discouraged  —  " 

"  No  wonder  !  "  cried  John,  stalking  up 
and  down  the  room. 

"  I  see,"  said  Sarah,  hesitatingly,  "  that  it 
is  useless  for  me  to  try  for  an  office  any 
longer.  And  I  shall  have  to  go  home  —  " 

"  My  darling  girl ! " 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"At  least  I  mean  —  I  haven't  any  home 
-but  to  the  schoolroom." 

"  Which  makes  it  doubly  shameful  that  I 
have  n't  a  home  to  give  you  !  I  envy  every 
negro  cabin  - 

"  Well,"  said  Sarah,  "  I  sometimes  think, 
what  if  you  were  a  canal  boatman  and 
I  —  Oh,  my  goodness  !  what  has  happened 
now  ? " 

What  had  happened  was  that  a  pair  of 
mighty  policemen  had  taken  Mrs.  Spence  in 
hand,  and  were  bringing  her  along  by  either 
arm  as  limp  as  a  rag  doll,  and  looking  as  if 
she  would  fall  in  a  heap  the  moment  they 
released  her. 

For  this  morning,  in  spite  of  the  heat, 
a  great  function  was  going  on  at  the  White 
House  in  honor  of  a  foreign  dignitary.  And 
among  the  uniforms,  the  plumes,  the  gold 
lace,  the  airy  summer  toilettes,  the  magnifi 
cence  of  flowers,  the  perfumes,  the  regal 
band  music,  the  deputies  of  States  and 
Kings,  a  little  woman  had  presented  herself, 
clothed  in  shabby  mourning,  but  with  a  mien 
there  was  no  gainsaying ;  and  pausing  in 
front  of  the  President  and  the  line  of  receiv- 
[230] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

ing  ladies,  and  the  astonished  groups  gath 
ered  about  the  blue  dais-seat  behind,  she 
had  taken  with  difficulty  some  folded  papers 
from  her  pocket,  and  in  a  sweet,  clear  voice 
had  said,  "  I  regret  being  obliged  to  dis 
possess  you,  sir,  but  my  duty  to  the  —  the 
absent  —  to  —  to  one  who  cannot  be  here  - 
leaves  me  no  alternative.  And  in  the  name 
of  Major  Spence,  of  Mississippi,  I  hereby 
call  upon  you  to  surrender,  and  I  declare 
his  claim  and  right  and  title  to  the  United 
States,  and  to  all  the  fields,  forests,  bottom 
lands,  rivers,  bays,  inlets,  fisheries,  and  seas 
adjoining,  and  —  "  And  horrified,  insulted, 
bewildered,  Mrs.  Spence  found  herself  seized 
and  hustled  and  pushed  and  lifted  outside 
the  gates  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  between 
two  policemen,  before  whom  Beau  had  again 
dropped  his  mantle  of  silence,  and  to  whom 
he  was  protesting  as  they  hurried  her  along, 
her  feet  hardly  touching  the  ground,  and  her 
soul  quivering  in  anger. 

"  If  this  loidy  has  anny  frins  at  all,  at  all," 
one  of  them  said  at  Mrs.  McQueen's  door, 
"  they  Ve  a   roight   to   be   lukin'   after   her 
beyant,  so  they  have ! " 
[231  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Or  it 's  to  the  asylum  she  11  be  spindin' 
the  nights,  begob  ! "  said  the  other. 

And  then  Sammy  Pleasants,  coming  along 
at  the  moment,  gave  the  men  what  appeared 
to  be  satisfaction  and  took  Mrs.  Spence  out 
of  the  blazing  sun. 

"  She  ain't  gwine  come  to  he'se'f  in  dese 
yere  parts,"  said  Beau,  desperately,  following 
with  the  papers  he  had  picked  up,  nearly 
dead  with  homesickness,  as  he  was  himself. 
"  Jes'  git  her  home  wid  my  Nanny  an'  she  'd 
be  cuyored  up  in  no  time — -a-settin  on  de 
gallery  wid  de  ole  sights,  de  ole  smells,  an' 
habin'  de  ole  cookin'." 

"  I  reckon  you  're  right,  Beau,"  said  Mr. 
Pleasants. 

"  My  Nanny,  she  des  natchully  mek  an 
eyester  melt  in  yo'  mouf,  Cap'n,  like  a  drap 
o'  dew  does." 

"  We  11  try  it,"  said  Mr.  Pleasants. 

"  Yassah,"  said  Beau.  "  An'  dere  ain' 
nott'n  beats  a  trial  but  a  failure  ;  I  heern  de 
Major  say  so  hese'f." 

And  Mr.  Pleasants  helped  Mrs.  Spence 
up  the  stairway  and  proceeded  to  call  a 
council  of  her  friends. 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

"  It  is  evident,"  he  said  to  them,  "that  Mrs. 
Spence  must  not  remain  here.  Removed 
from  these  excitements  and  placed  in  the 
old  scenes,  frail  as  she  is,  she  may  recover. 
Now,"  continued  the  young  lawyer,  looking 
Miss  Sarah  out  of  countenance,  "  as  I  lately 
drew  up  the  will  that  made  John  Cumnor 
and  Sarah  Woodbury  her  heirs,  it  seems  to 
me  it  is  their  duty  to  take  her  home  and 
manage  the  plantations  for  her  and  make 
her  happy  —  " 

"  Sammy  Pleasants  !  "  cried  Miss  Raleigh, 
"  you  are  a  genius  !  You  are  the  best  man 
in  the  world  ! " 

"  Till  she  forgets  the  claim  - 

"Oh,  claim!"  said  Miss  Raleigh.  "It 
makes  me  tired  !  I  wonder  if  Major  Spence 
was  such  a  supernal  being  that  she  must 
needs  sacrifice  herself,  body  and  soul  —  " 

"  He  was  to  her  ;  —  a  supernal  being.  But 
—  well  —  at  Mobile,  at  Bay  St.  Louis,  Biloxi, 
New  Orleans,  and  contiguous  territory,  he 
was  as  gay  an  old  boy  as  ever  set  'em  up 
all  round." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Miss  Sarah,  as  if  a  piece  of 
precious  china  had  been  broken. 
[233] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  I  'm  sorry,"  said  Miss  Raleigh.  "  But  it 
might  have  been  worse.  And  we  all  have 
our  ideals."  And  lest  the  look  she  gave 
should  unduly  elate  him,  she  added,  "  Even 
you  have  your  faults,  Sammy." 

It  was  a  pretty  wedding  that  afternoon, 
for  all  the  wilting  heat,  although  Mrs.  Mc 
Queen  had  had  so  little  time,  with  prepara 
tions  to  make  and  trunks  to  pack.  She  was 
warm  and  tired  ;  but  there  was  a  wedding 
cake  from  the  confectioner's,  and  the  parlor 
was  wreathed  with  long  stems  of  the  grape 
vine,  and  there  was  a  wilderness  of  pale  pink 
and  purply-black  and  crimson  roses  every 
where,  which  the  Californian  had  brought 
in.  And  Miss  Sarah  looked  as  darkly  beau 
tiful  as  the  Princess  Sarah  of  old,  when 
Pharaoh  desired  her  beauty  and  her  hus 
band  hid  her  and  passed  her  on  as  a  chest  of 
pearls.  Inside  all  was  dusk  and  fragrance  ; 
outside  the  air  quivered  with  blue  films  of 
late  afternoon  among  the  treetops  tossing  in 
the  hot  wind,  and  among  the  high  marble 
terraces  and  shining  pillars  in  the  opulence 
of  sky  and  heat  —  a  heat  that  made  one  long 
for  night  in  the  sylvan  recesses  where  the 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

Potomac  narrows  ;  for  the  dark  fording  of 
the  stream,  and  the  coming  into  moonlight 
from  the  forest ;  for  the  climbing  of  George 
town  Heights,  and  the  sweeping  by  villas 
hidden  in  gloom  and  gleam  of  garden  and 
fountain,  the  wind  blowing  gales  of  sweet 
ness  —  nights  which  were  to  be  part  of  the 
delight  of  Raleigh  and  her  husband  through 
many  a  summer  to  come. 

"  Raleigh,"  Sammy  had  whispered,  with 
eager  but  subdued  emphasis,  just  before  the 
benediction  given  John  Cumnor  and  his  wife, 
"  there  '11  never  be  a  better  time  for  —  " 

"  Sammy,"  she  had  whispered  in  return, 
as  she  bent  toward  him,  her  face  the  color 
of  one  of  the  damask  roses,  "  be  quiet ! " 

"  But,  Raleigh,  if  we  —  " 

"  I  Ve  never  promised  —  except  —  well, 
except  three  or  four  people  incidentally. 
Now  be  still !  Besides,  I  Ve  told  you  I 
must  keep  on  with  my  office." 

"  But  I  don't  want  you  to,  love,"  every 
honest  freckle  starting  into  relief. 

"  That  makes  no  difference.  I  want  to. 
Johnny  will  need  the  money  —  for  two  or 
three  years,  anyway." 

[235] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Two  or  three  years  !  " 

"  Hush  !  hush  ! "  in  a  still  more  strenuous 
whisper. 

"Raleigh!  We  will  be  married  now  — 
in  two  minutes  —  or  never  !  " 

And  Mr.  Pleasants  had  nodded  to  the 
minister  and  had  produced  the  license,  with 
which  he  had  warily  armed  himself  against 
a  peradventure,  and  had  taken  her  hand. 
"  'Pears  like  'foh  Miss  Raleigh  could  say 
yes,  high  or  no,  she  was  Mis'  Pleasants," 
said  Beau,  subsequently. 

It  was  a  few  years  later  that  Mrs.  Pleasants 
was  visiting  her  brother  at  Beaumarais.  The 
sky  was  velvety  blue  that  morning ;  the 
roses  climbed  about  the  main  building  that 
had  once  been  partly  burned  ;  the  passion 
flowers,  the  jasmines,  overlay  it  in  masses  ; 
and  a  wild  orange-tree,  that  had  grown 
there,  rose  in  a  tower  of  bloom  above  the 
ruin.  Three  or  four  children,  white  and 
black,  tumbled  together  in  the  broad  walk 
before  the  wing  which  was  now  the  mansion, 
and  made  one  who  had  seen  it  think  of  Bab- 
cock's  painting  of  the  little  heaven  children 
come  down  to  play  with  the  little  children 
[236] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

of  earth.  Mr.  John  Cumnor,  sunburned 
and  stalwart,  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  had 
strolled  up  from  the  ploughing  and  leaned 
against  a  pillar  of  the  gallery  watching  the 
babies  play.  His  wife  (whose  marmalade 
of  bitter  oranges,  by  the  way,  made  from  a 
recipe  of  Nanny's,  commands  a  large  sale 
in  the  North),  white-robed  and  dark  and 
starry  now,  paused  in  the  doorway,  with 
Raleigh's  arm  about  her,  breaking  off  a 
long  wreath  of  jasmine  as  she  smiled  at 
him.  And  a  little  old  woman,  lying  back 
in  a  chair,  behind  which  Beau  towered  like 
a  black  marble  monolith,  surveyed  them  all 
with  shining  eyes,  her  face  a  transparency 
with  a  clear  flame  behind  it.  Gazing  at  her 
you  seemed  to  see  a  visible  soul.  Her  eyes 
looked  out  as  stars  do  through  drifting  clouds 
of  night,  and  now  and  then  a  light  like 
dawn  glowed  with  a  kindling  thought.  You 
fancied  that  soul  you  saw  was  one  already 
gone  over  to  the  other  life,  but  called  back 
to  the  verge  again  by  love. 

"  Dear,"  said  Mrs.  Spence  to  Raleigh,  who 
came  presently  and  sat  beside  her,  "  I  can 
not   help   thinking   what    pleasure    all   this 
[237] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

would  be  to  Major  Spence.  I  went  away, 
1  remember  —  somewhere — I  suppose  he 
must  have  sent  me  —  for  I  brought  back  all 
this  brightness  and  blessing  with  me.  He 
had  such  a  warm  heart.  He  so  loved  to 
give  pleasure  himself.  I  don't  see  how  any 
one  could  be  willing  to  injure  him ;  but  I 
believe  the  Government  did — in  some  in 
comprehensible  way —  I  was  never  very 
good  at  politics.  However,  I  am  sure  he 
overlooked  it.  And  this  would  make  him 
forget  any  trouble." 

"  Dear  heart ! "  said  Raleigh,  clasping  the 
little  hand. 

"  Do  you  know,  my  love,  now  and  then 
it  comes  across  me  here  that  possibly  —  it 
is  all  so  bright,  so  sweet,  so  still  —  this  — 
this  might  be  heaven?  If  Major  Spence 
were  here  I  should  sometimes  think  it  was." 

"Perhaps  he  is.  Who  knows?"  said 
Raleigh. 

But  the  doubt  brought  Mrs.  Spence  back 
to  the  earthly  parallels.  "We  are  very 
content  here,  are  we  not  ? "  she  continued 
presently.  "  I  often  wonder  why  the  good 
Lord  favored  this  country  so  much  more 
[238] 


A    LITTLE    OLD    WOMAN 

than  harder,  colder  ones.  But  sometimes, 
I  am  half  ashamed  to  say,  I  have  a  dreadful 
dream  that  our  gentle  life  here  might  be 
disturbed  —  that  some  one  has  something  — 
called  a  claim  —  that  there  is  possibly  a 
claim  to  something  which  I  ought  to  assert 
for  the  sake  of  these  dear  people.  Is  there 
anything  anywhere  in  dispute  ?  Tell  me,  if 
you  will,  do  you  know  anything  about  it  ?  " 
"Dear  Mrs.  Spence,"  Raleigh  answered, 
"  you  have  established  your  claim  to  peace, 
and  no  one  ever  will  dispute  it." 


[  239  ] 


V 

The  Colonel's  Christmas 


The  Colonel's  Christmas 

MORE  or  less  primitive  the  large  old 
village  was,  with  its  purple  cloak 
of  encircling  hills.    It  is  no  wonder 
that  to   most  of  the  Hillburn   people  the 
great  Judge  Alexander's   place   seemed  to 
compass   all   that  they   had   ever   dreamed 
of  kings'  palaces. 

It  did  so  to  Charles  Monck,  at  any  rate, 
as  now  and  then  his  errand  brought  him 
into  the  charmed  precincts  of  Greylock  and 
its  gardens,  where  the  box  hedges  grew 
tall  as  in  only  one  or  two  other  spots 
in  that  part  of  the  country,  where  there 
were  roses  of  every  tint  that  roses  blow, 
where  the  lilies  kept  their  ranks  of  snow 
and  gold,  and  the  great  hollyhocks  stood 
up  on  their  stems  like  Fra  Angelico's  angels 
in  their  red  gowns,  their  purple  and  their 
yellow  robes  —  pictures  he  came  to  know 
later  within  the  house,  the  house  whose 
wings  and  bays  were  veiled  with  the  creeper 
[243] 


OLD    W ASHINGTON 

that  made  it  seem  in  summer  almost  a  part 
of  the  forest  behind  and  above  it,  and  in  the 
fall  reddened  it  with  deeper  and  richer  tints 
than  belonged  to  its  dull  old  bricks.  Some 
of  those  bricks  had  been  brought  across 
seas  by  the  Judge's  people  more  than  two 
hundred  years  ago. 

The  Judge  had  no  people  now ;  his  race 
had  dwindled  to  a  solitary  representative, 
and  his  little  daughter  had  not  a  relative 
in  the  world  except  himself.  And  within 
the  house,  as  the  boy  sometimes  saw,  it 
was  a  place  of  soft-piled  carpet  and  marble 
stair,  of  long  portraits  lining  the  wall,  of 
bronzes  and  books  and  rare  china  and  old 
silver,  none  of  which  at  the  time  he  knew 
by  name,  but  all  of  which  spoke  to  the  love 
of  beauty  in  his  inmost  soul  and  made  him 
long  to  have,  at  some  day,  such  a  house 
of  his  own  and  such  a  fairy  creature  in  it 
as  Annis,  the  Judge's  daughter,  whom  he 
sometimes  saw  dancing  down  the  long  hall, 
with  her  burnished  hair  streaming  about 
her,  who  lingered  looking  at  him  as  he 
went  away.  Now  and  then,  too,  he  saw 
her  at  church,  so  demure  and  still  that  he 


THE    COLONEL'S    CHRISTMAS 

could  only  think  her  like  one  of  the  young 
girls  in  Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs,  with  which 
volume  he  had  beguiled  many  a  dreadful 
hour.  At  such  times  she  never  glanced  at 
him  —  or  if  she  did  it  was  when  the  sermon 
had  sent  him  sound  asleep.  For  what  eyes 
should  Annis  Alexander  have  for  the  boy 
who  drove  the  farmer's  cows  ?  Once  he 
met  her  in  a  lane  where  she  was  trying  to 
pull  the  last  rose  from  the  top  of  a  tall 
wild  brier,  and  he  paused  and  reached  and 
broke  it  off  for  her,  his  cheeks  tingling,  his 
dark  eyes  flaming ;  going  then  his  way  with 
out  waiting  to  see  that  the  little  lady's  face 
was  the  color  of  her  rose. 

And  then  an  opening  had  come  for  the 
lad  into  the  outer  world  ;  and  he  had  left 
the  village  and  its  great  house  and  its  gar 
dens  and  lilies  and  hollyhocks  and  a  thou 
sand  dreams  behind  him,  and  had  entered 
into  the  business  of  life.  Once  in  a  while 
he  had  news  of  the  old  hamlet  —  his  own 
kindred  were  all  dead  and  gone ;  he  heard 
of  the  coming  of  the  railway  a  mile  or  two 
away,  still  leaving  the  place  delightfully 
remote  from  noise  and  bustle ;  he  heard  of 
[245] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

the  marriage  and  departure  of  Annis,  of  the 
death  of  the  Judge's  farmer,  and  that  little 
Ellie,  his  child,  was  managing  a  farm  of  her 
own.  He  sent  her  once  the  money  to  pay 
off  its  mortgage,  although  she  never  knew 
from  whence  it  came.  He  used  to  dream 
of  the  old  place,  when  he  had  leisure  to 
think  of  anything  but  cent  per  cent ;  the 
red  hollyhocks  stood  out  in  his  memory 
at  such  times  like  living  personages.  He 
heard  incidentally  of  the  death  of  the  Judge. 
When,  finally,  he  heard  that  Greylock  had 
been  sold  to  strangers,  all  his  interest  in  the 
town  seemed  to  have  vanished.  But  when, 
by  and  by,  he  also  heard  that  the  strangers 
wished  to  sell,  he  went  up  to  the  place  and 
drove  a  bargain  for  Greylock  on  the  spot. 

The  old  Alexander  place  was  his  at  last. 
The  traces  of  the  strangers  he  had  removed 
as  far  as  possible,  and  made  the  place  as 
much  like  what  it  used  to  be  as  modern 
wealth  allowed ;  he  laid  rich  rugs  on  the 
stone  and  oaken  floors,  he  hung  silken 
hangings  at  the  deep  casements,  but  he 
kept  the  colors  and  ideas  that  the  house 
had  formerly.  He  hunted  up  a  number 
[246] 


THE    COLONEL' s    CHRISTMAS 

of  the  old  portraits  that  had  drifted  off  here 
and  there  from  sale  to  sale,  and  if  he  added 
to  them  some  marvellous  French  landscapes 
and  Spanish  figure  pieces,  he  did  it  with 
the  taste  and  knowledge  he  had  made  his 
own  in  his  city  life  and  in  his  foreign  travel. 
And  there  were  books,  and  portfolios  of 
prints,  and  fine  trifles  on  which  art  had 
expended  beauty  and  money  too ;  and  the 
house  was  still  wreathed  with  its  creeper 
and  honeysuckles  in  summer,  and  in  fall 
great  logs  blazed  in  the  chimneys.  And 
the  new  owner  closed  his  various  branches 
of  business  —  a  rich  man  now,  well  past 
forty  —  and  came  up  to  Greylock,  and  made 
his  home  there,  and  found  that  no  home 
was  good  for  anything  without  a  wife,  and 
bemoaned  himself  that  he  had  been  so  busy 
making  money  and  informing  himself  how 
to  spend  it  that  he  had  had  time  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  no  one  who  could  supply 
the  element  without  which  his  house  was  so 
lonely  and  his  life  so  barren.  He  wished 
he  had  made  friends  with  the  minister's 
daughter  while  there  was  yet  time,  and 
before  she  had  gone  elsewhere.  He  even 
[247] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

thought  whether  or  not  Ellie,  the  farm 
manager,  would  fill  the  deep  armchair 
within  the  Flemish  screen  on  the  other  side 
of  the  library  fire  ;  but  one  glimpse  of  a  face 
like  old  ivory  answered  him.  As  for  Annis 
Alexander,  she  was  only  a  remembrance ; 
something  of  the  nimbus  of  the  Judge's 
superior  glory  surrounded  her  still  in  his 
thought ;  he  would  never  have  regretted 
her,  for  it  would  never  have  crossed  his 
mind  that  she  could  have  been  within  his 
reach.  He  did  wonder  more  than  once 
what  had  become  of  the  minister's  daughter 
-he  remembered  how  she  sang  on  summer 
nights ;  but  he  doubted  if  the  girl  had  even 
known  his  name.  He  was  a  humble-minded 
man,  for  all  his  success  and  his  money  ;  these 
called  him  Squire,  and  those  called  him 
Colonel  —  he  had  had  command  of  a  fancy 
regiment  once  for  a  short  time  ;  but  to  him 
self,  in  his  inmost  consciousness,  he  was 
always  the  plain  farmer's  boy  going  after 
the  cows,  and  possessed  of  an  intimate 
diffidence. 

Not  that  he  did  not  know  all  the  advan 
tage  of  wealth ;  what  it  was  to  be  a  power 
[248] 


THE    COLONEL* s    CHRISTMAS 

on  Wall  Street,  what  it  was  even  in  the 
village,  that  had  grown  into  a  region  of 
costly  summer  places,  to  be  the  master  of 
Greylock  —  indeed,  there  were  many  mem 
bers  of  the  summer  throng  that  were  not 
slow  to  teach  it  to  him.  But  he  knew  that 
something  much  more  quiet  and  simple  than 
followed  in  their  train  was  what  he  needed  ; 
their  life  was  foreign  to  his  pleasure.  His 
heart  warmed  to  none  of  them ;  they  were 
too  fine,  too  splendid  and  pictorial,  with 
their  plumes  and  ribbons,  the  sweep  of  their 
gowns,  their  airs  of  fashion,  far  too  fine  for 
the  taste  of  the  farm  hand.  For  even  after 
his  long  years  of  business,  after  his  travels 
about  the  world,  his  days  passed  in  galleries 
and  his  nights  at  operas,  he  called  himself 
a  farm  hand  still,  happier  looking  over  his 
cattle,  and  planning  his  crops,  and  setting 
out  hedges,  and  developing  new  seedlings, 
than  in  doing  anything  else.  Yet  when  he 
sat  down  at  his  lonely  dinner  table,  finer 
than  the  Judge's  ever  was,  with  a  butler 
standing  behind  him  as  pompous  as  the 
Judge  himself,  "  I  am  as  solitary,"  he  said, 
"as  the  pelican  in  the  wilderness." 
[249] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

He  felt  it  in  the  summer  twilights,  as 
the  mountain  stood  out  black  before  the 
paling  sunset,  as  the  dew  fell,  the  perfumes 
wandered  faintly  from  rose  and  carnation, 
and  the  whippoorwills  in  the  wood  below 
began  calling  to  one  another,  far  off  and 
sweet ;  he  felt  it  beside  the  fire  that  wal 
lowed  up  the  chimney  in  the  late  autumn 
or  the  early  winter  nights.  "  What  would 
I  give,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  if  there  were  a 
wife  and  children  here,  and  there  were  to  be 
anything  like  the  Christmas  cheer  that  be 
longs  to  a  place  in  which  a  man  without  wife 
and  children  has  no  right  to  live  ! "  And  he 
had  his  bag  packed,  and  made  off  now  to 
this  city  and  now  to  that,  as  regularly  as 
the  snows  whitened  Greylock  and  gave  him 
new  longing  for  the  Christmas  joyances  that 
should  belong  to  home.  He  envied  then 
the  men  he  saw  buying  gifts,  the  crowds 
bearing  parcels ;  he  felt  defrauded  that  he 
had  no  one  whom  he  could  make  glad  with 
anything  but  charity.  He  made  to  himself 
some  feint  of  business  to  hinder  the  weari 
ness  that  sometimes  fell  upon  him  in  such 
wise  that  it  seemed  better  to  risk  and  lose 
[  250] 


THE    COLONEL'S    CHRISTMAS 

all  he  had  than  to  go  on  in  this  humdrum 
fashion  of  success,  without  a  stir  in  his  life. 

Some  interest  in  Departmental  affairs 
took  him  in  one  of  these  late  autumn 
seasons  to  Washington.  It  was  tiresome. 
He  might  have  found  pleasure  in  the  de 
bates,  but  Congress  had  not  yet  assembled. 
He  spent  a  little  time  in  the  Departments ; 
a  little  time  in  the  clubs,  and  won  and  lost  a 
little  money ;  a  little  time  in  the  Library ; 
a  good  deal  of  time  in  the  hotel  lobbies ;  it 
was  all  rather  a  bore ;  the  only  thing  he  en 
joyed  at  all  was  driving  about  the  streets, 
that  gave  him  some  half  a  hundred  miles  of 
velvet  to  drive  over,  with  a  high-stepping 
horse  he  had.  And  thus  it  happened  that, 
a  sudden  tempest  of  rain  coming  up  and 
making  the  concrete  slippery  as  glass,  the 
horse  fell  and  threw  Colonel  Monck  out, 
his  head  striking  against  an  edge  of  sharp 
granite,  and  when  he  was  picked  up  and 
carried  into  Mrs.  McQueen's  boarding-house, 
near  at  hand,  and  the  doctor  summoned,  it 
was  discovered  that  his  ankle  was  badly  in 
jured,  and  it  was  thought  best,  on  account 
of  the  wound  on  his  head,  to  leave  him 
[251] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

where  he  was  rather  than  take  him  to  his 
hotel,  the  letters  in  his  pocket  showing  that 
he  was  Colonel  Monck,  and  that  he  was 
staying  at  the  Arlington. 

"  The  poor  soul !  the  poor  soul ! "  he  heard 
a  voice  murmuring  —  far  away  outside,  it 
seemed.  "To  think  it  was  our  carriage 
step !  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  he  is  here  to  be 
taken  care  of!  No,  no,  .no,  doctor,  don't 
speak  of  it  —  a  hospital !  Do  you  think  any 
one  of  those  nurses  will  take  the  care  of  him 
that  I  shall?" 

"  I  doubt  if  you  have  not  enough  to  do, 
without  this,  Mrs.  McQueen,"  said  Doctor 
John. 

"  I  can  manage,"  sang  the  cheery  voice. 
"  I  shall  think  all  the  time,  what  if  it  were 
my  Archie  ? " 

"  Your  Archie  is  a  boy  of  fifteen,  and  this 
is  a  man  of  fifty — or  thereabouts." 

"  Archie  will  be  fifty  some  day  if  he  lives," 
said  the  little  mother.  "  And  he  may  need 
a  good  turn.  I  '11  pass  it  on.  And  Milly 
can  wait  on  me,  and  Florry  can  do  the  mar 
keting —  she  has  gone  with  me  once  in  a 
while,  and  it 's  time  she  took  some  respon- 


THE    COLONEL'S    CHRISTMAS 

sibility.  Or  I  can  get  Mrs.  Jack  Knowles' 
Tolly  to  help.  Oh,  we  can  manage  it ! " 
and  she  tied  her  worn  black  bonnet  strings 
with  determination. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  doctor.  "I  will 
be  in  again  this  evening,  and  then  possibly 
we  can  decide  more  intelligently  what  is 
best." 

And  when  he  came  again  Colonel  Monck 
was  quite  himself  and  able  to  express  a 
preference  for  staying  where  he  was.  Not 
that  it  made  much  matter  —  he  was  toler 
ably  disgusted  with  fate  and  things  in  gen 
eral ;  but  the  hands  were  tender  here,  the 
voice  was  kind,  the  way  was  gentle,  and  for 
all  he  could  see  he  was  as  well  off  in  this 
third-rate  boarding-house  as  he  would  be 
anywhere  else,  and  could  have  as  much  of  a 
Christmas  here  as  at  the  Arlington. 

In  fact,  in  a  very  few  days  the  Colonel 
was  as  well  as  ever,  except  for  the  injured 
ankle,  which,  however,  was  mending  rapidly  ; 
and  he  had  begun  to  find  the  situation  a  trifle 
more  interesting  than  life  in  the  lobbies. 
There  was  the  little  woman  herself,  whom 
nearly  every  one  in  the  house,  with  conde- 
[253] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

scending  patronage  or  kindly  familiarity, 
called  Queenie,  a  new  character  in  his 
experience  —  shabby,  a  black  veil  always 
wrapped  about  her  head  when  she  was  not 
wearing  the  old  black  bonnet,  forever  at 
the  call  of  all  the  various  household,  and 
unchangeably  gentle  and  smiling  and  silver- 
tongued  ;  no  sort  of  a  manager,  and  making 
up  for  her  lack  in  that  direction,  and  the 
poverty  which  obliged  her  to  do  with  poor 
service,  by  the  unceasing  effort  and  industry 
of  her  tireless  hands  and  feet.  There  were 
the  boarders,  too,  going  up  and  down  by  the 
open  door  —  some  clerks,  men  and  women ; 
the  private  secretary  of  a  cabinet  officer ;  a 
yellow-haired  lady  with  a  claim  upon  the 
Government,  and  a  congressman  who  came 
to  see  her  about  pressing  it ;  a  politician 
staying  temporarily  while  urging  his  right 
to  an  office,  but  bidding  fair  to  make  a 
winter  of  it ;  and  a  widow  of  narrow  means 
and  wide  ambitions,  and  her  companion,  who 
spent  the  cold  weather  there.  And  there 
were  Milly,  the  dark-haired  stepdaughter 
of  the  landlady,  who  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
table  and  wore  a  good  deal  of  tarnished 


THE    COLONEL' s    CHRISTMAS 

splendor;  and  Florry,  the  fair-haired  one, 
quite  as  splendid  as  her  sister  ;  and  Archie, 
the  boy  who  was  studying  might  and  main 
and  was  the  only  real  help  his  mother  had, 
besides  the  slatternly  colored  girls  with  their 
hair  braided  all  the  week  in  little  pigtails, 
which  gave  their  heads  a  strange  resem 
blance  to  the  porcupine  jars  in  which  hya 
cinth  bulbs  are  just  sprouting.  Archie  came 
in  and  read  him  the  evening  papers  ;  one  and 
another  of  the  boarders  called,  and  some  he 
asked  to  call  again  —  not  the  yellow-haired 
lady,  nor  the  gentleman  who  tumbled  up 
stairs  after  midnight.  He  saw  Miss  Milly 
now  and  then  whisking  by  the  door  in  a 
dressing-gown  and  crimps,  and  later  in  the 
day  she  dropped  in,  with  her  war-paint  and 
feathers  on,  to  tell  him  stories  of  the  fine 
people  whom  she  did  not  know  by  sight, 
and  give  him  accounts  of  the  dinners  and 
receptions  for  which  her  soul  longed  and  for 
which  he  did  not  care  a  farthing,  and  to  talk 
of  the  dramatic  heroes  and  heroines  and 
express  her  delight  in  the  theatre,  where 
on  fortunate  nights  she  could  see  and  be 
come  a  part  of  the  world  she  admired.  And 
[255] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Miss  Florry  set  the  doors  open  and  played 
to  him  from  the  drawing-room  such  music 
as  was  hers  —  and  she  had  not  a  little  talent 
at  the  piano  —  and  came  in  afterward  for 
her  reward  in  the  admiration  that  a  man  of 
the  world  should  not  but  feel  for  a  young 
woman  who  managed  marvellously  the  train 
of  her  gown  and  had  no  other  particular 
recommendation.  In  fact,  the  whole  family 
understood  that  they  had  among  them  a  man 
to  be  made  the  most  of,  a  millionnaire  sort  of 
man,  whose  like  they  had  not  fallen  in  with 
before  and  might  not  meet  again  ;  and  the 
widow  of  narrow  means  confided  to  him  her 
woes ;  her  companion  had  woes  of  quite  as 
much  weight ;  one  of  the  clerks  told  him 
the  virtues  and  uses  of  a  small  capital  in 
lending  money  at  usurious  interest  in  the 
Departments  ;  and  the  other  clerk  told  him 
of  the  family  at  home  dependent  on  his 
salary,  and  of  his  daily  suffering  through 
fear  of  the  sight  of  the  heart-breaking  yellow 
envelope.  And  one  of  the  office-seekers 
came  in  and  fought  over  the  battles  of  the 
Wilderness,  in  which  he  had  borne  part,  and 
explained  to  him  the  mistakes  of  Grant  and 
[256] 


THE    COLONEL' s    CHRISTMAS 

Lee ;  and  even  the  airy  private  secretary, 
who  was  by  no  means  on  the  pinnacle  he 
had  enjoyed  before  the  Colonel  came,  con 
descended  occasionally  to  hint  to  him  the 
real  facts  about  the  situation  of  various  pub 
lic  affairs.  The  Colonel  thought  he  might 
be  able  to  put  the  clerk  who  lived  with  that 
yellow  sword  of  Damocles  over  his  head  in  a 
more  permanent  situation.  He  even  prom 
ised  to  exert  what  influence  he  had  for  the 
man  who  had  had  no  chance  to  direct  the 
great  battles  as  they  should  have  been 
directed.  He  pitied  the  widow,  and  he 
surreptitiously  offered  the  companion  a  rail 
road  ticket  home  if  she  felt  her  bonds  un 
endurable.  And  he  sent  Archie  to  buy  a 
frequent  box  at  the  theatre,  which  such 
of  the  family  as  pleased  should  occupy,  of 
which  Miss  Milly  and  Miss  Florry  forthwith 
made  themselves  proprietors,  sailing  forth  in 
great  style  and  holding  the  fort  of  the  two 
front  seats,  chaperoned  by  the  widow,  and 
asking  whom  they  pleased  to  join  them. 
They  had  before  been  able  to  go  (in  no  sort 
of  style  at  all)  only  when  Miss  Virginia 
Cantrell  sent  them  tickets  for  her  nights,  but 
n  [  257  ] 


O L D    WASHINGTON 

since  Miss  Jinny's  marriage  to  her  Jerome 
there  had  been  no  tickets,  anyway. 

"  Have  n't  you  gone  to  the  theatre  ? "  in 
quired  the  Colonel,  when  this  had  happened 
a  second  time,  and  the  house  was  still,  and 
little  Mrs.  McQueen  came  in  with  a  cup 
of  something  appetizing. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  answered  him ;  "  of  course 
not." 

"  Why  of  course  not  ? "  he  asked,  sur 
prised. 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  long  since  I  have  been  to  — 
to  such  a  place." 

"  That  is  no  reason.     What  else  ? " 

"  And  I  don't  care  about  it." 

"  Why  not  ? " 

"  Why,"  she  said,  laughing  out  of  a  pair 
of  eyes  that  he  noted,  not  for  the  first  time, 
were  of  the  softest  wine  tints,  "how  can  I 
say?  I  am  so  accustomed  to  staying  at 
home." 

"  And  letting  those  two  girls  go  instead ! " 

"You  know,"  she  said,  "  one  can  be  young 
but  once." 

"  Young !  And  how  old  are  you,  may  I 
ask  ? " 

[258] 


THE    COLONEL'S    CHRISTMAS 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  it  is  proper  for  you  to 
ask  at  all,"  she  said.  "You  see,  I  can't  be 
very  young,  with  Archie,  and  those  two 
great  girls  calling  me  mother,  and  my 
own  little  Louie  over  in  the  convent.  I 
had  just  as  lief  you  'd  know,  though.  It 
doesn't  really  make  any  odds  when  one  is 
as  old  as  I  am.  I  am  —  1  shall  be  —  forty 
—  my  next  birthday."  And  a  pretty  color 
streamed  up  the  soft  oval  of  her  cheek  as 
she  made  the  mortifying  statement. 

"I  shall  be  forty-five,"  said  the  Colonel. 
"  And  I  don't  regard  it  as  such  a  vast  age. 
In  fact,  I  feel  as  if  life  were  all  ahead  of 


me." 


"  That  is  different.  I  suppose  —  perhaps 
—  I  have  lived  more  in  forty  years.  At 
any  rate,  I  have  had  more  trouble.  And  I 
don't  know  anything  that  ages  one  like 
trouble." 

"  Have  you  had  trouble  ?  "  asked  the  Col 
onel,  wincing  a  little  just  then  with  pain. 

"  Have  I  had  anything  else  ? "  she  an 
swered,  with  a  smile  that  was  like  the 
watery  gleam  of  sunshine  on  a  dull  day. 
"  No,  I  should  n't  say  so,  when  I  have 
[259] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Archie  and  Louie  !  Oh  —  let  me  loosen  that 
bandage.  There  —  that  feels  better  ?  Now 
Archie  will  come  and  read  to  you.  I  have  to 
boil  over  the  crab-apple  jam,  and  it  is  a  good 
time  to  do  it  when  I  sha'n't  be  interrupted." 
Poor  little  woman,  as  the  Colonel  saw, 
her  interruptions  were  ceaseless.  There 
was  a  perpetual  jangle  of  some  one's  bell, 
which  half  the  time  she  answered  —  Beau, 
who  had  gone  home  with  his  mistress,  being 
greatly  missed,  and  the  boy  who  came  in 
the  middle  of  the  day  and  officiated  as  but 
ler  and  man-of-all-work,  for  his  dinner,  either 
not  being  there,  or  taking  too  long  to  find 
his  clean  apron ;  and  she  always  hurried 
for  the  postman ;  and  she  had  to  follow 
Mirandy  round  with  a  second  duster,  or 
go  over  the  glasses  with  another  towel ; 
or  she  was  coming  up  heated  from  sup 
plying  the  slips  in  the  kitchen ;  or  she 
was  patching  Archie's  clothes  while  Archie 
sat  beside  her  with  his  book,  his  arm  over 
her  shoulder,  she  once  in  a  while  turning 
her  head  to  kiss  his  hand.  And  then  Miss 
Milly  was  asking  her  to  mend  a  skirt  for  her  ; 
or  Miss  Florry  wanted  something  downtown, 
[260] 


THE    COLONEL'S    CHRISTMAS 

unable  to  go  herself,  and  Mrs.  McQueen 
trudged  out  to  get  it  and  walked  because 
she  must  spare  the  car  fare ;  and  this 
boarder  sent  for  her  to  see  about  nothing ; 
and  that  boarder  hunted  her  up  to  complain 
about  another  nothing:  and  there  was  the 
look  of  a  hunted  hare  in  her  eyes,  for  it  was 
Mrs.  McQueen  here,  and  Ma  there,  and 
Queenie  in  the  other  place,  as  if  she 
belonged  to  any  one  but  herself;  and 
almost  the  only  real  pleasure  she  had  in  life 
was  when  she  could  get  over  to  the  convent 
with  Archie  and  see  her  little  Louie,  who 
was  not  so  very  little,  after  all.  And 
Colonel  Monck,  thinking  it  a  good  accident 
that  brought  him  here,  where  he  might  find 
a  side  of  life  he  had  not  known  before, 
began  to  think  also  that  all  the  saints  are 
not  on  the  calendar,  but  that  one  of  them, 
at  least,  was  to  be  found  in  the  drudge  of 
a  Washington  boarding-house. 

"  You  know,"  said  Miss  Florry  once, 
when  the  Colonel  intimated  something  of 
the  sort,  "  it  is  n't  quite  as  if  mamma  were 
really  our  mother  — 

"  Really  your  mother ! "  cried  the  Colonel. 
[261] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  she  is  n't  your 
mother  ? " 

"  My  gracious  !  Queenie  !  No,  indeed  ! 
I  guess  not,"  says  Miss  Florry.  "  Why, 
papa  married  her  when  she  was  a  widow 
with  two  children !  It  was  very  good  of 
papa.  Our  own  mother  —  why,  she  was  one 
of  the  Virginia  Brierleys  !  Then  he  was  ill, 
and  she  took  care  of  him  till  he  died  ;  and  of 
course  we  are  sensible  of  it ;  we  are  very 
fond  of  Queenie.  Papa,  you  know,  lost 
everything  in  the  wah,  and  that  is  the  reason 
mamma  takes  boarders  now.  It  seems  hard 
to  have  papa's  name  used  so ;  but  she  had 
the  furniture,  you  know,"  said  Miss  Florry, 
taking  the  head  of  her  hat-pin  out  of  her 
mouth.  "  And  she  either  had  to  do  that 
or  we  had  to  —  to  starve,  I  reckon.  And 
there  it  is,  you  see." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  Colonel. 

It  was  on  returning  from  the  theatre  one 
night,  where  they  had  enjoyed  Colonel 
Monck's  box  as  box  was  never  enjoyed 
before,  that  Miss  Milly  and  Miss  Florry,  in 
the  privacy  of  their  hall  chamber,  were 
combing  out  their  pretty  locks. 


THE    COLONEL'S    CHRISTMAS 

"  I  don't  know,  Florry,"  said  her  sister, 
pausing,  comb  in  air.  "  It  looks  like  it.  I 
never  saw  more  pointed  attentions  —  so 
many  flowers  and  bonbons  and  novels,  and 
this  box  at  the  National,  and  his  horses 
down  to  drive  when  we  please.  The  only 
thing  —  the  only  thing  —  " 

"  The  only  thing  is  that  we  don't  know 
which  one  of  us  it  is,"  said  Milly,  as  she 
stood  with  her  head  bent,  and  the  hair 
drooping  over  her  face  in  a  veil,  while  she 
flourished  her  brush  vigorously. 

"It's  absurd,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  hope  it 's  you,  Florry.  I  'm  sure  I  had 
as  lief  it  were  you,"  said  Milly,  after  a  few 
moments  of  silence,  as  she  gave  a  screw  to 
the  slip  of  lead  in  which  she  folded  her  crimp. 

"  You  're  very  good,  Milly.  I  don't 
know.  You  are  prettier  than  I ;  but  then 
there 's  my  music.  But  we  Ve  always 
had  each  other's  things,  so  that  it  really 
would  n't  matter.  Still,  there  '11  be  dia 
monds  in  this  case ;  but  perhaps  mine 
would  be  enough  for  two.  And  they  say 
that  country-seat  of  his  is  an  earthly  par 
adise.  I  don't  care ;  whichever  one  of  us 
[263] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

it  is,  we  shall  be  together ;  and,  oh  my !  to 
have  a  home  of  our  own,  with  no  rent  hang 
ing  over  us,  no  bills  to  pay,  no  hateful, 
hateful,  insolent  boarders  —  oh,  that  would 
be  a  heavenly  paradise!  It's  true  there's 
this  encumbrance  ;  but  then  he  is  really  a 
nice  old  gentleman.  I  could  love  him  very 
much  if  he  were  my  father.  My  gracious  ! 
why  can 't  he  just  adopt  us  ? " 

"  Well,  he  can  come  back  a  Member 
whenever  he  pleases:  perhaps  — just  think 
—  a  senator !  And  to  be  a  senator's  wife  ! 
To  be  here  after  the  holidays,  anyway, 
senator  or  not,  and  give  a  cold  stare  to 
those  people  who  have  given  us  their  airs ! 
Oh,  one  could  marry  a  much  worse-looking 
man  than  he.  He's  not  so  very  old,  after 
all.  And  really  he  's  not  bad-looking  at  all 
—  when  you  think  of  Senator  Bortle.  And 
Connie  Gilroy  might  have  married  that 
wretch  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Mr.  Jack 
Knowles." 

"  She  never  would  ! " 

"  You  would  never  think  he  was  just 
sprung  from  the  people.  And  papa's 
family  —  " 

[264] 


THE    COLONEL' s    CHRISTMAS 

"  Oh,  I  'm  sick  of  papa's  family,"  dabbling 
in  the  cold  cream.  "  What  has  it  ever 
done  for  us?  Not  half  so  much  as  little 
Queenie  here.  And  I  Ve  made  up  my 
mind !  If  he  asks  me  I  shall  take  the 
goods  the  gods  provide.  Oh,  the  exquisite 
relief  of  daring  to  look  the  grocer  in  the 
face!" 

"  The  delight  of  silk  stockings  !" 

"  How  extravagant  you  are  !  I  only  ask 
for  enough  lisle-thread  ones  never  to  have 
to  darn  any.  And  to  be  able  to  wear  all 
the  white  skirts  I  want  — " 

"What  daydreams!  I'm  afraid  none  of 
them  can  come  to  pass.  But  if  they  did, 
Queenie  should  never  do  another  day's 
work.  She  does  too  much  already.  I  'm 
ashamed  of  it  —  I  'm  always  meaning  to 
reform.  She  has  all  the  wrong  side,  and  we 
have  all  the  right  —  if  there  is  any  right. 
If  we  were  going  to  stay  here  I  think  I 
should  make  a  fresh  deal  and  take  a  little 
more  on  my  shoulders,  at  any  rate.  Oh, 
it's  too  good  to  be  true.  There!  You 
ready  ? "  And  out  went  the  gas,  and  left 
them  to  their  slumbers,  and  the  dreams  of 
[265] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

Worth  and  Pingat  and  Felix,  with  stray 
flashes  of  diamonds  and  prancing  of  horses, 
and  cold  eyes  of  hostile  women,  and 
Queenie  in  a  towering  hat  and  feathers, 
and  girls  who  were  themselves  and  not 
themselves,  and  Colonel  Monck  in  sack 
cloth  and  ashes. 

The  poor  Colonel,  unconscious  of  all  this 
way  in  which  the  Fates  carried  themselves 
concerning  him,  was  meanwhile  turning 
over  quite  different  thoughts  in  his  mind, 
now  burning  with  indignation  as  he  saw  the 
way  in  which  the  little  woman  was  at  the 
beck  and  call  of  any  one  in  the  house  — 
"  People  not  fit  to  lace  her  shoes  ! "  said  the 
Colonel ;  and  now  his  heart  warm  with  pity 
as  he  saw  her  willingness,  her  patience,  her 
untiring  way  of  taking  things  for  granted 
that  amounted  to  sweetness,  her  perpetual 
answer  to  the  perpetual  demands  early  in 
the  morning  or  late  at  night,  having  her 
bite  and  sup  when  she  could  get  it  and 
at  any  hour,  humble  as  if  from  long  habit 
she  never  thought  of  being  anything  but 
glad  and  grateful  that  she  was  allowed  to 
breathe,  ready  to  do  more  and  have  less  were 
[266] 


THE    COLONEL' s    CHRISTMAS 

it  necessary  for  Archie's  and  Louie's  sake. 
His  eyes  followed  her,  and  his  ears  listened 
for  her,  and  he  found  himself  wondering  and 
fuming,  and  then  asking  angrily  what  busi 
ness  it  was  of  his,  and  wondering  and 
watching  again. 

"  What  did  you  marry  Mr.  McQueen 
for  ? "  he  asked  the  little  woman,  abruptly, 
as  she  bandaged  his  ankle  one  night,  the 
girls  and  various  others  having  gone  to 
make  the  most  of  the  theatre  box,  and  he 
and  Mrs.  McQueen  being  quite  alone. 

She  started  so  that  the  black  bonnet  fell 
on  one  side  and  caught  in  a  pin,  and  put 
tumbled  a  cataract  of  rich  dark  red  hair,  full 
of  golden  lights  and  waves ;  and  the  more 
she  tried  to  restrain  it,  the  more  it  would 
come,  till  she  had  to  fling  the  bonnet  off 
altogether  and  attend  to  gathering  the 
great  masses  into  their  coil  again. 

"  Why  in  the  world  do  you  always  cover 
up  such  hair  as  that  ? "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Oh, "  she  answered,  "  with  Milly  and 
Florry  round  —  young  ladies,  you  know  — 
and  I  their  papa's  widow  —  it  —  it  would  n't 
do,  you  know." 

[267] 


OLD    W  ASHING  TON 

"It  wouldn't  do?"  said  he.  "And  so 
you  efface  yourself  that  they  may  be  seen  I 
If  you  gave  any  one  a  chance  to  look  at 
you  —  if  you  dressed  like  some  of  the 
women  I  have  seen,  you  'd  be  younger  than 
the  whole  kit  of  them  !  " 

"  I  ?  Oh,  you  forget !  I  told  you  I  was 
almost  forty  —  and  —  and  twice  a  widow," 
she  added,  with  a  pathetic  sort  of  sigh. 

"You  didn't  tell  me  why  you  married 
Mr.  McQueen,"  he  insisted  then. 

"  I  don't  know  why,"  she  said,  after  a 
moment,  looking  down  and  intent  upon  her 
work.  "  He  was  so  poor,  and  he  had  these 
young  girls,  and  no  one  to  see  to  them  or  to 
do  for  them  —  or  for  him  either.  And  I 
had,  at  any  rate,  a  kind  of  a  home.  And 
the  girls  were  running  wild.  He  was  quite 
the  gentleman  —  a  gentleman  of  the  old 
school  they  call  it,  you  know  But  he  was 
a  man.  And  a  man  is  so  helpless,"  said  the 
forlorn  little  woman. 

"  And  is  that  the  reason  you  married 
him?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  can't  exactly  tell  — 
he  said  I  had  better  —  he  said  I  must  —  and 
[268] 


THE    COLONEL' s    CHRISTMAS 

I  did.  I  thought  it  would  be  good  for 
Archie  to  have  a  father.  And  he  was  very 
fond  of  me,  I  think.  He  only  lived  a  little 
while." 

"  And  were  you  fond  of  him  ?  "  asked  the 
remorseless  Colonel. 

"  I    - 1  —  pitied  him.     Do  I  hurt  you  ? " 

"You?  With  those  fingers?  They  are 
like  the  touch  of  rose  leaves.  Could  they 
hurt  any  one  ?  However  —  yes,  that 's  easier 
—  has  a  man  only  to  say  you  must  marry 
him  for  you  to  obey  ?  Tell  me  another 
thing  now :  did  you  love  your  first  hus 
band  ? " 

"  I  was  sure  I  did  at  first,"  she  said. 
"Now  I  wouldn't  ask  any  more  questions." 

"  Yes ;  I  want  to  know  all  about  you. 
When  did  you  find  out  you  did  n't  ? " 

"  Oh,  too  soon !  too  soon  ! "  she  cried,  in 
a  sudden  gust  of  tears,  letting  the  bandage 
fall,  standing  up,  and  dashing  the  drops  off 
with  both  hands. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  the  Colonel, 
reaching  up  and  taking  one  of  the  hands 
and  pulling  her  to  a  seat  on  the  lounge 
beside  himself. 

[269] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  I  was  very  young  —  I  was  not  what 
you  see  me  —  I  was  as  well  born  as  —  as 
any  one,"  she  said  between  her  sobs.  "  He 
brought  me  here  —  we  were  on  the  top  of 
the  wave  —  oh,  it  is  hard,  hard,  hard  to  re 
call  it  - 

"  Don't,  then  —  don't,  my  dear,"  said  the 
Colonel. 

"  It  was  all  right  while  my  dear  father 
lived.  And  then  he  ran  through  with  the 
money ;  he  had  horses,  yachts,  wine  parties 
—  oh,  it  was  fine  till  it  was  dreadful !  He 
gambled.  He  drank.  I  don't  know  what 
he  did  n't  do.  I  know  he  beat  me !  Oh, 
what  am  I  saying  to  you  ?  Archie's  father  ! 
But  it  is  true.  When  I  —  I  —  hesitated 
about  giving  him  the  last  of  the  money,  he 
would  threaten  me  with  killing  himself.  I 
gave  it  to  him.  He  did  kill  himself  one 
day  —  poor  soul !  oh,  poor  soul !  And  I 
had  nothing  left  but  the  house ;  they  took 
the  house  for  his  debts,  but  they  gave  me 
the  furniture.  We  lived  on  the  sale  of  the 
pictures  and  books  and  marbles  a  while. 
And  there  were  Archie  and  Louie,  —  and 
the  disgrace  —  the  disgrace  of  it ! "  she  cried, 
[270] 


THE    COLONEL' s    CHRISTMAS 

burying  her  face  in  the  bonnet  that  she 
groped  for  and  found.  "I  hid  myself"  — 
as  the  Colonel  took  away  the  bonnet  —  "I 
hid  myself !  I  tied  up  my  hair ;  I  kept 
under  my  veil.  People  forgot  me.  I  pass 
them  now  —  they  used  to  dine  at  my  table 
-they  never  know  me.  I  know  they 
don't !  But  at  last  we  had  to  do  some 
thing —  and  the  boarders  were  different 
persons  from  those  we  had  known  —  and 
we  had  been  so  poor,  so  half  famished,  I  felt 
as  if  they  were  guardian  angels  when  they 
came.  And  then  Mr.  McQueen  asked  to 
come,  with  his  girls  —  and  nothing  was  any 
consequence  —  and  that  is  all." 

"  1  suppose  you  never  thought  of  marry 
ing  a  third  time  ?  " 

"  A  third  time  !  "  she  cried,  so  indignantly 
that  her  tears  were  like  sparks  of  fire  as 
she  faced  him.  "  What  do  you  take  me 
for  ? " 

"Very  good  men,  and  women  too,  have 
married  a  third  time,  even  when  the  other 
times  were  not  a  mistake." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  ! "  cried  Mrs.  McQueen, 
tossing  her  head.  "  Very  good.  But  I 
[271]  ' 


O L D    WASHINGTON 

should  not  like  to  tell  them  my  opinion  of 
them ! " 

"  Let  us  see,"  said  the  Colonel,  calmly. 
"  Your  first  husband  abused  you  and  ruined 
you.  Your  next  one  was  merely  a  matter 
of  charity  with  you.  Why  should  you  not 
have  a  husband  now  who  will  be  what  the 
word  signifies,  who  could  give  you  a  home, 
a  rich  and  beautiful  home  indeed,  and  peace 
and  security  and  comfort  in  it,  who  could 
give  Archie  the  education  he  ought  to  have, 
Louie  the  place  in  society  she  ought  to 
have,  provide  properly  for  these  young 
women  —  and  they  might  really  be  very 
decent  girls  under  different  circumstances 
—  who  would  protect  you,  confide  in  you, 
honor  you,  love  you?  Queenie,"  said  the 
Colonel,  "  I  have  more  money  than  I  know 
what  to  do  with.  I  have  a  home,"  he  said, 
untroubled  by  any  remembrance  of  Claude, 
"with  lawns  and  gardens  about  it,  valley 
and  river  below  it,  hills,  great  hills,  behind 
it.  But  what  sort  of  a  home  is  it  ?  It  is  so 
lonesome  it  is  like  a  tomb,  and  I  have  to 
come  away  from  it.  If  I  had  a  wife  there, 
if  there  were  young  people  moving  about 


THE    COLONEL' s    CHRISTMAS 

the  place,  with  their  interests,  their  com 
panions,  their  pets,  their  work,  their  pleas 
ures,  caring  for  me  a  little,  growing  to  care 
for  me  more,  keeping  me  young  —  oh,  it  is 
very  selfish  —  but  now  that  Christmas  is 
coming,  and  Christmas  fires  might  be  roll 
ing  up  the  big  chimneys  —  ah,  who  could 
ask  for  more  ?  I  am  not  young  —  I  have 
none  of  the  graces  wooers  ought  to  have. 
But  I  could  promise  a  wife  care,  gen 
tleness,  faithfulness,  admiration  —  oh,  yes, 
even  love,  if  it  were  --if  it  were  you, 
Queenie  ! " 

"I?" 

"  Yes,  you  ! " 

"  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  ! " 

"  Think  of  it  now,  then." 

She  had  turned,  looking  in  his  face  in  her 
amazement,  her  dark  eyes  glowing,  the 
color  flushing  up  and  down  her  thin  cheeks, 
her  lips  trembling — they  were  delicate,  finely 
curved  lips.  In  a  moment  the  Colonel  had 
bent  over  and  kissed  them.  And  then  he 
gathered  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her 
again.  "Just  try  to  love  me,  Queenie,"  he 
murmured. 

is  [  273  ] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

"  Oh,  I  should  n't  have  to  try !  "  sobbed 
the  little  woman  on  his  breast. 

And  that  night  the  Colonel  could  not 
sleep  for  seeing  a  fairy  form  flitting  in  pale 
muslins  between  the  snowy  lilies  and  the  red 
hollyhocks  of  Greylock,  lovelier  in  his  sight 
than  any  flower,  in  spite  of  her  forty  years. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Colonel  Monck,  the  next 
morning,  "  I  think  this  bandage  can  come 
off  now.  I  am  quite  sure  I  can  stand  alone 
without  it." 

"  Nothing  rash,  nothing  precipitate,  sir," 
said  the  doctor.  "  We  don't  want  to  have 
you  lamed  for  life,  you  know." 

"It  is  not  much  matter  if  I  am.  I  have 
a  shoulder  to  lean  on  now.  I  am  going  to 
be  married.  It  is  late  ;  but  better  late  than 
never.  If  you  have  nothing  to  hinder,  will 
you  leave  this  note  at  Wormley's  as  you  go 
by  ?  It  will  bring  me  a  friend  who  will 
attend  to  some  little  formalities.  And 
will  you  send  your  bill  ?  Here,  this  is  my 
address,  sir ;  it  will  be  attended  to  as  soon 
as  I  reach  home.  I  shall  leave  for  New 
York  this  afternoon,  thanks  to  your  skill. 
It  is  rare  skill,  my  dear  sir ;  money,  I  am 


THE    C  o  L  o  N  E  L'  s    CHRISTMAS 

aware,  does  not  pay  for  such  things.  Some 
time,  when  you  need  a  season's  rest,  you 
come  to  Greylock,  and  my  wife  will  do 
for  you  a  part  of  what  she  has  done  for 
me.  And  let  me  tell  you,  there  will  be 
some  pretty  girls  there  —  my  stepdaughters. 
You're  a  young  man,  and  it's  a  strange 
thing,  but  young  people  find  young  people 
pleasant  company.  Yes,  nice  girls,  and  with 
good  marriage  portions,  each  of  them,"  said 
the  unblushing  Colonel,  his  happiness  de 
veloping  in  him  new  and  singular  powers 
for  matchmaking.  "  But  I  'm  in  no  hurry 
to  think  of  their  leaving  the  place." 

And  the  Colonel  carried  things  with  this 
high  hand  over  every  one.  When  Queenie 
protested  that  she  must  wait  to  get  a  gown, 
he  also  protested  that  dresses,  velvets,  cash 
meres,  laces,  diamonds,  furs  were  to  be  had 
in  New  York,  and  there  they  should  be 
found,  and  they  would  leave  Hilly  and 
Florry  to  dismiss  the  enemy,  sell  the  furni 
ture,  and  give  the  landlord  the  key  of  the 
house,  and  follow  with  Archie  and  Louie  in 
season  for  a  Christmasing  that  should  make 
the  old  house  thrill  in  all  its  timbers. 
[275] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

And  leave  that  afternoon  he  did,  his  friend 
attending  to  everything,  and  he  himself  not 
looking  at  license  or  certificate,  nor  seeing 
the  amazement,  the  consternation,  the  self- 
conscious  glance,  the  look  of  shame,  that 
passed  between  the  two  young  ladies  when 
he  announced  that  he  had  been  married 
to  their  mother  a  half-hour  before,  —  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Pleasants,  besides  his  friend  from 
Wormley's,  having  been  the  only  witnesses, 
-  seeing  only  the  soft  rose- color  on  his 
wife's  cheek,  the  sweet  droop  to  the  pensive 
mouth,  the  white  eyelids  with  their  long 
dark  fringes.  And  later,  as  he  looked  at  the 
great  lance  of  light  with  which  the  Monu 
ment  pierced  the  winter  blue  of  the  vast  sky, 
and  the  mighty  dome  floating  like  a  snowy 
cloud  above  the  sunset  and  just  faintly 
blushing  in  it  while  receding  from  him,  he 
breathed  a  benediction  on  the  town  for  giv 
ing  what  was  to  him  its  chiefest  treasure. 

And  when  he  brought  his  wife  to  Grey- 
lock,  after  a  sufficient  stay  at  the  Windsor 
for  all  purposes  of  apparel  and  finery,  she 
sitting  now  very  still  in  the  covered  sleigh 
and  trembling  so  that  he  feared  it  was 
[276] 


THE    COLON  EL'S    CHRISTMAS 

with  the  cold,  despite  her  royal  sables,  and 
pulled  the  robes  about  her,  and  bade  John 
hurry  the  horses,  and  lifted  her  into  the  great 
house,  and  seated  her  by  the  fire  in  a  chair 
that  received  her  as  if  its  deep  close  arms 
gave  her  welcome,  "  This,"  he  said,  "  is  home 
at  last.  My  little  darling,  what  makes  you 
tremble  still  ?  Is  it  so  strange  to  have  love 
and  a  home  of  your  own  once  more  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  she  cried,  looking  up  at  the  por 
trait  of  the  old  Judge  that  hung  upon  the 
wall  before  her.  "  It  always  was  my  home. 
You  never  asked  me  —  you  do  not  seem  to 
know  that  I  was  Annis  Alexander." 

The  Colonel  was  on  one  knee  beside  her. 
If  she  had  been  a  king's  daughter  it  would 
have  been  something  less  in  his  eyes. 

"  And  you  are  my  wife  ! "  he  said.  "  To 
think  of  it !  And  I  —  I  drove  your  father's 
cows.  But  a  prince  could  not  love  you 


more." 


"  You  are  more  than  a  prince  to  me,"  she 
cried.  "You  are  the  greatest,  the  best, 
the  most  beautiful  of  men.  We  have  lost 
twenty  years  of  life  we  should  have  had. 
I  knew  it  was  you.  I--I  always  loved 
[277] 


OLD    WASHINGTON 

you  —  at  least  I  think  I  did.    I  know  —  I 
know  I  love  you  now ! " 

And  when,  late  in  the  next  week,  as  the 
twilight  of  Christmas  eve  was  falling  over 
Grey  lock,  and  the  fires  were  flashing  ruddily 
through  the  deep  windows,  Colonel  Monck 
came  in,  his  arms  and  pockets  full  of  parcels, 
and  had  a  glimpse  of  Louie  and  Archie,  with 
their  arms  over  each  other's  shoulders,  half 
buried  in  a  lounge  beside  the  hall  chimney 
and  reading  from  the  same  book,  while  the 
glow  and  flicker  of  the  burning  logs  played 
over  them,  and  heard,  tinkling  under  Florry's 
fingers  in  the  room  beyond,  the  tune  to 
which  in  a  mirror  he  saw  Milly,  holding 
up  her  pretty  dinner  dress  and  dancing  with 
Celeste  Dreer,  who  had  come  up  for  the  holi 
days,  while  at  the  sound  of  his  feet  stamp 
ing  off  the  snow  they  all  sprang  with  joyous 
greeting,  and  the  gladdest  greeting  of  all 
was  in  the  two  tender  brown  eyes  of  a  little 
creature  who  looked  in  her  silks  and  laces, 
with  her  shining  uncovered  hair,  almost  as 
much  like  a  flower  as  a  woman  —  a  happy 
little  woman  who  had  bloomed  into  beauty 
under  the  sunshine  of  his  love  —  then  for 
[278] 


THE    COLONEL' s    CHRISTMAS 

the  first  time  in  his  life  he  knew  what  home 
was.  He  looked  about  him  at  the  rich  and 
lovely  scene,  at  the  yellow  Persian  cat  rising 
from  the  rug  and  arching  its  back  and  sweep 
ing  its  feather  of  a  tail  in  suspicion  of  the 
great  Dane  who  stalked  at  his  heels,  and 
he  noted  the  spicy  perfume  of  the  burning 
logs,  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers,  and  felt 
that  it  was  all  his  own,  with  a  sort  of  fierce 
joy  at  its  being  shut  in  by  the  wall  of 
storm  without. 

"This  is  happiness,"  he  said  to  Queenie. 
"  This  is  something  worth  coming  to.  Now 
we  shall  have  Christmases,  and  birthdays, 
and  anniversaries,  and  by  and  by  wed 
ding  days,  and  children  going  and  chil 
dren  coming.  And  life  has  just  begun  to 
be  worth  living ! " 


[279] 


A  New  Novel  by  the  Author  of  "  Quo  Vadis" 


ON  THE  FIELD 
OF  GLORY 


By   HENRYK   SIENKIEWICZ 

Author  of  "Knights  of  the  Cross"  "  With  Fire  and  Sword," 
"  The  Deluge,"  *'  Quo  Vadis,"  etc. 

Translated  from  the  Polish  by  Jeremiah  Curtin 
12mo.     Decorated  Cloth,  $1.50 


This  important  work  is  the  only  one  written  by  this 
renowned  author  since  the  year  1900,  when  he  completed 
"Knights  of  the  Cross."  The  scenes  are  laid  in  Poland, 
and  the  period  is  the  reign  of  the  famous  King  John 
Sobieski,  just  before  the  Turkish  invasion  in  1682  to  1683. 
Sienkiewicz  has  woven  a  wonderful  romance  of  great 
brilliancy  and  strong  character  drawing,  and  in  no  book 
by  the  author  of  " Quo  Vadis"  has  he  displayed  his  great 
genius  more  strikingly. 

He  tells  a  charming,  tender,  and  passionate  love-story 
of  remarkable  intensity,  and  gives  the  reader  acquaintance 
with  characters  not  inferior  in  vigor  and  interest  to  those 
of  the  great  trilogy.  The  complete  work  has  been  trans 
lated  by  Jeremiah  Curtin. 


LITTLE,    BROWN,   &    CO.,    PUBLISHERS 
254  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


A  Distinctive  Modern  Romance 


MAID  OF  ATHENS 


By  LAFAYETTE   McLAWS 
Author  of  **  When  the  Land  Was  Young,"  etc. 

12mo.     Decorated  Cloth,  $1.50 


A  romance  of  great  charm  dealing  with  Lord  Byron's 
career  in  Greece,  his  poems  "Thyrza"  and  "Maid  of 
Athens"  furnishing  the  talented  novelist  with  the  germ 
of  a  love-story  which  will  appeal  to  many  besides  those 
interested  in  the  poet's  romantic  life.  The  scenes  on  the 
Bosphorus  and  in  the  Imperial  harem  at  Stamboul,  the 
attempted  rising  of  the  Greeks  against  the  Turks,  and 
Lord  Byron's  love  for  the  "  Maid  of  Athens,"  are  pictured 
with  great  vividness  and  power,  and  Thyrza,  the  daughter 
of  a  Greek  patriot,  is  one  of  the  most  lovable  creations  of 
modern  romantic  fiction. 

Readers  of  "  When  the  Land  Was  Young  "  need  not  be 
told  that  Miss  McLaws  is  gifted  with  a  wealth  of  creative 
imagination.  Her  new  book  is  laden  with  the  atmosphere 
of  the  early  nineteenth  century,  and  it  is  a  living,  breathing 
woman  whose  love  and  sorrows  thrill  us  in  this  story. 
Byron  himself,  though  vividly  present  in  these  pages,  is 
second  in  interest  to  the  lovely  Greek  girl  Thyrza,  who  is 
depicted  with  a  sympathetic  touch  due  perhaps  to  the 
author's  Southern  birth  and  temperament. 


LITTLE,    BROWN,   &    CO.,    PUBLISHERS 
254  WASHINGTON   STREET,  BOSTON 


Richard  Le  Gallienne  s  New  Book 


PAINTED  SHADOWS 


By  the  Author  of  "The  Love-Letters  of  the  King,"  etc. 
12mo.     $1.50 

MR.  LE  GALLIENNE'S  new  book  displays  in  a  remarkable 
degree  his  fine  imagination,  charming  style,  and  the  high 
quality  of  his  verse.  "  The  Youth  of  Lady  Constantia,"  "  The 
Wandering  Home,"  "The  Shadow  of  the  Rose,"  "Beauty's 
Portmanteau,"  and  "Old  Silver"  are  equal  to  his  best  work, 
and  the  story  which  bears  the  title  "  Poet  take  Thy  Lute  "  will 
appeal  especially  to  those  who  love  what  is  best  and  most  beau 
tiful  in  literature. 


The  Heroine  'with  the  Marvellous  Voice 


SWEET    PEGGY 


By  LINNIE  SARAH  HARRIS 
With  frontispiece.     12 mo.     $1.50 

A  SUMMER  idyll,  with  love,  music,  and  nature  for  its  themes, 
and  the  mountains  and  lakes  for  its  scenes.     The  heroine, 
Peggy,  is  charming,  fresh,  and  unconventional,  with  a  genuine 
love  for  song.     The  country  neighbors  with  their  peculiarities 
give  touches  of  both  humor  and  pathos  to  this  appealing  story. 


LITTLE,    BROWN,    &    CO.,    PUBLISHERS,    BOSTON 
At  all  Bookseller,? 


A  Powerful  Novel  of  Married  Life 


THE  BALLINGTONS 


By  FRANCES  SQUIRE 
445  pages.     12mo.     Decorated  cloth,  $1.50 


Incontestably  the  work  of  a  genius.  — Buffalo  News. 

A  masterly  study  of  certain  problems  of  married  life.  — 
Chicago  Record-Herald. 

A  strong  story  of  American  social  life.  Thoughtfulness 
of  purpose,  intensity  of  conviction,  and  vigor  of  treatment 
are  conspicuously  apparent. — New  York  Tribune. 

One  of  the  most  brilliant  novels  of  the  season.  —  Toledo 
Blade. 

Treats  of  a  fresh  and  vital  theme  in  a  daring  manner.  — 

Louisville  Times. 

It  is  strong,  fresh,  original,  purposeful,  and  it  is  full  of 
human  interest.  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

A  wonderfully  true  presentation  of  marriage  under  cer 
tain  conditions,  and  of  the  inevitable  effect  upon  a  woman's 
character.  There  is  never  a  point  where  the  author  swerves 
from  absolute  truth.  The  most  remarkable  novel  that  has 
come  to  our  desk  for  many  a  long  day.—  New  York  Times. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON 
At  all  Booksellers' 


RETURN 


CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 

202  Main  Library 


LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling        642-3405 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


CIRCULATION  DgPT. 


FORM  NO.  DD6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


M5Q6279 


U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


